Capital Letter

Dear Victoria,

You are very pretty and I like you a lot.  I really do.  You smell nice.  You keep yourself up.  You’re fun to visit.

But we need to talk.

Here.  Sit.

There are a few things that bug me.  First off,  How come your gas is cheaper than Vancouver?  I looked around and didn’t see any oil fields.  How is it that in Vancouver, we are paying $1.42/L and here, it’s $1.24/L?  Huh?  Why?  Is it because you’re prettier?

Second, the pedestrian way your pedestrians walk is maddening.  It’s like they assume a car will stop for them, cross walk or no cross walk.  Do you have any idea how the rest of the world operates?  Cars rule (Ok, in downtown Vancouver, Bikes rule) but either way, someone walking onto a busy street better have good life insurance.  In Montreal, you’re not even safe on a crosswalk.  In Italy, you’re not even safe on the sidewalk.  What makes you feel so privileged here?

Third.  You only have two lanes coming in from the ferry.  It’s like a python trying to swallow a hippo.  Hello!  Do you not want us to get into town?  Is the plan to make us run out of gas somewhere near Elk Lake?  Gack!  Add another lane.

Lastly, why be so nice?  I assume if someone is waving at me, it’s because I’ve cut them off and they’re not actually waving.  Or they’re just waving with one finger.   Why be so polite?  Why even say hello or thank me for holding a door.  It just confuses me.

But I can’t stay made at your forever, Victoria.

You’re still my favourite.



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