vancouver- vip style

my cabbie and i conversed about pakistan and how he missed los angeles, santa barbara precisely, when he moved up here with his four children. we drove through kensington to the downtown, tree leaves ripening in color from fresh spring greens to burnished golds and orange tones. down granville, i noted so many boutiques of interest and a dutch bakery that made me wonder if they had stroopwafels like the kind daddy introduced me to years ago- a vestige of my heritage in the gooey maplesque cookies from youth. we kept driving to the boutique hotel, located in a happening part of town and booked by the ill colleague for whom i had made the trek out to vancouver.

when i stepped into my hotel room i had the distinct sense of being all 29 years old. if i had been 19 say, i would have squealed with delight. this might as well have been the penthouse suite resplendent with a living room attached to the bedroom and separate bathroom and walk-in closet. what? jutting off of the living room area, a small patio with chairs beckoned me to come hither. i might as well have been the newest sensation in hip hop that the big labels wanted to impress. yup. i was impressed all the more once the sun had set and orbs of light tracked up the night sky like cirque du soleil acrobat artists. i drank it in, even as i sipped my pellegrino water and nibbled on artisan belgian chocolate with rice crisps- all compliments of the house, of course.

man, it feels good to be a gangsta...