JACK KNOX
For those planning to turn Canada’s 150th fête into a frat party, our columnist has one word of advice: Don’t. Not this year
Dear citizens/chers citoyens of Greater Victoria/Dysfunction-sur-Mer, On behalf of the Government/Gouvernement of Canada, I, Prime Minister Justin Trudeau/le premier ministre smokin’ chaud, would like to welcome/bienvenue you to this year’s sesquicentennial celebrations/fête du sasquatch at the Inner Harbour/Place des Touristes.
Working with your local Spirit of 150 committee/comité du face
painting, we are pleased to present 11 straight days and nights of music, arts, culture and food at Ship Point. The festivities will culminate in free concerts next weekend at the main stage in front of the legislature (or, as Christy Clark just renamed it, the Dave Barrett Memorial Working Peoples’ Hall of Democracy and $10 Daycare Centre).
As is traditional in Victoria, the celebrations will end with a spectacular fireworks display July 1.
Also as is traditional, some Victorians will mark that night by A) covering themselves in red and white, B) getting hammered and C) putting on a spectacular Inner Harbour display of their own.
To which I, on behalf of the rest of Canada/grand blanc nord, would like to say: Don’t. Not this year. Not on our 150th. Don’t turn this special Canada Day into a maple leafed Mardi Gras, an excuse to lose your inhibitions/foundation garments/stomach contents on the Upper Causeway pavement.
Seriously, while we here at the Government/Gouvernement of Canada enjoy a good drunken barfing as much as the next person, we’re curious about how Victorians came to equate puking with patriotism.
You know you’re the only ones who do this, right?
I have been to Canada Day ceremonies from Kitimat to Come By Chance and they’re all happy to make do with a hot dog, a little paper flag and a couple of temporary tattoos. You don’t see Rex Murphy and Anne Murray sneaking into a parkade with a paper bag before passing out face down at the base of the Peace Tower with flags-as-capes draped over their backs, looking like a state funeral waiting to happen.
Victoria police juggled 156 calls during the night of last year’s Canada Day/Fête du Régurgitation. That included 13 fights or assaults, 14 complaints of public intoxication, 10 celebrants creating a disturbance and 16 calls to help ambulance paramedics.
Alas, there was no specific record of how many flag-as-amini-dress young women were hospitalized after attempting to ride the topiary whale, or of the number of drunken maple-leaf-painted-on-chest young men who broke their knuckles trying to punch out the Captain Cook statue. (“You want a piece of me, old man? Look at me when I’m talking to you!”)
The good news: Just 22 people got themselves arrested. That’s way down from a few years ago, when a typical Canada Day night would see 60 to 80 people stuffed into Victoria police cells and, when those were full, the lock-up in the courthouse.
The Upper Causeway mob scene is, in truth, smaller and tamer than it once was. It has been six years since the Canada Day night when Victoria Transit was forced to pull a record 25 barfed-in buses — vomit comets, as you call them — out of service.
It has been a decade since a now-legendary incident in which an amorous couple put on their own fireworks show in an Empress hotel window in full view of the crowd, an exhibition that filled onlookers with horror, or perhaps envy.
(Again, while we in the Prime Minister’s Office/Bureau des Selfies do not object to a bit of panepolishing, there’s a time and place for everything, and it’s certainly not in the middle of a Canada Day celebration. To quote my father: “The bedrooms have no place in the fête of the nation.”)
So, yes, it appears you in Victoria are gradually pulling up your socks (or at least your pants) and realizing that July 1 is a family get-together, not a frat party.
Years from now, when asked “How did you seize this once-in-alifetime chance to celebrate Canada’s 150th?” you’ll be glad you made the right choice.