Vancouver - A Third World City

You know what's shitty? When your water is brown and undrinkable. You know where that happens? Somalia, Afghanistan, Hell, and Vancouver. I know what you're thinking - How do I know the color of the water in hell? No, that's not what you're thinking... You're wondering how this happened in Vancouver. That's a damn good question.

I come home one day to find that, not only is my tapwater brown as a Sunday afternoon shit, but it's also undrinkable without in-house treatment. Fantastic. Did you know, no matter how much you boil dirty water, it doesn't get any clearer? It's just that the bugs inside of it eventually succumb to the excruciating, burning awfulness of being boiled alive, and simply die inside the water you're about to drink. Their bobbing carcasses remain, still staining the water a putrid brown. And the fact that there's also silt in the water doesn't seem to help. If there's dirt in my water, doesn't that make my water mud? Am I drinking mud?...

A trip to costco yielded not only a flat of bottled water for 6 dollars, but also some much needed entertainment, as we were witness to the most ridiculous of asian shopping spectacles; the rarely seen "fight-over-bottled-water-in-another-language" (Man it was awesome). This got me to thinking - this brown water really isn't the worst thing, is it? I mean how often is it that we get to see asians fighting over a 6 dollar flat of plastic?

The more I thought about it the more I liked the brown water. There are so many bonuses: You get up in the morning, and the first thing you do (If you're a sturdy, regular fellow such as I) is go to the bathroom to take your morning pee. You stare down at the unfamiliarly colored innards of the toilet, but just before you begin your morning ritual, you realize that the water in the toilet is already dirty - and you feel fantastic. You no longer need to worry about peeing in water which is also suitable to drink, wasting an entire toilet tank just for one small portion of urine. It's like peeing in the outdoors, or watering plants with your pee - you know you're putting your pee to good use. And the greatness of muddy water does not stop there my friends. I've been drinking bottled water for the past week, and I can report without bias that drinking bottled water makes you feel special. It's like, every time you pick up a bottle of water, and crack that seal, you're saying "I know there's water in the tap. Like a barbarian, I could boil it for 10 minutes and try not to think about its less than subtle brownness as I drink it down, dead bugs in mud. But I'm just not going to stoop to that level. I have bottled water. I am worth it."

I could go on.

I awoke the other morning and discovered, to my absolute horror and disappointment, that the water was, once again, clear and drinkable. You cannot know how this tore at my soul; you cannot understand the pain of a man unless you have walked in his opaque, brown colored shoes. I had become accustomed to my wondrously browned water. I had an intimate relationship with my brown water. We had learned to exist together, in peace and harmony, each unit respective and cherishing of the other. Though we had begun as individuals, even as enemies, we had grown together into a nearly inseparable mass - a gelatinous blob of muddy love. And now they had taken it away, without apology, without remorse. Bastards.

But then I got over it. Who wants brown water coming out of their taps? I can go outside and stick my face in the mud if I want some brown water...

Spiker

PS - Ode to Salad: Salad, how I missed you. Thank you for not abandoning me in my time of crisis. Your will is astounding - you stood tall amongst the zucchini and onions and you refused to wilt. I will wash and eat you tonight, and we shall rejoice.