may nineteeth, in the year two-thousand and four PT II

The bus ride itself was painfully bouncy. We girls had to fortify ourselves against the relentless jolting and the boys laughed, but were kind. (As kind as we ever are in groups, I suppose). Ouur route didn’t particularly go anywhere, back and forth meandering alomost ever street in Vancouver, and the driver had an amusing tendency to make silly noises inadvertantly over the microphone. There was a little girl on board we all made faces at who waved us goodbye when we we decided to get off at the Bayshore for the Coal Harbour tourcruise. I think Sophie wants one.

We walked around the outside of the hotel, along the water, rather than cutting through. We were late for the boat, approching in time to see it paddle off, but we certainly didn’t mind. There was a park to go lounge about in, laying in the grass to eat our candies. Walking along the water is always more pleasant, though the water was brackish and terrible. There was such a layer of gunk that we were surprised to discover jellyfish in the water by the dock where we recieved our tickets. I’d never seen one before not in a tank. The tickets were amusing in a silly sort of way. The had Pedro and James’ names on them and the word escort on capital letters. Exactly the sort of fodder for our war of wit conversations.

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