The museum turned out to be fascinating, detailing every twist and turn in the force's development from one man - John Stewart in 1886 - to the 1,700+ officers and civilians today. You can try on various uniforms, view a gallery of confiscated weapons, and watch a video about the Emergency Response Team who get to abseil, travel by boat, wear black, and throw flash grenades. That's what I'd want to do if I were in the force.
The main difference from the British police is guns. Lots of guns. The first room you come to is full of the things, including an uzi (Canadian police use uzis?!) and various short-lived experimental firearms. It's all a little different from our "policing by consent" model. That said, I only know one British police officer, and she's smaller and scarier than most of the guns on display.
The museum is housed in the city's old court rooms, which were attached to the morgue. The morgue has been left pretty much intact, with a wall covered in various internal organs taken from "guests" and preserved. I walked around with my back to that particular display. It turns out that Errol Flynn, having popped his clogs in Vancouver, spent a night in this very morgue, and all the little refrigerated cupboards where they kept the bodies have been lovingly preserved. In like Flynn, indeed.
Yet the most amazing, mind-blowing piece of information I received today was this: all mounted police officers in Vancouver are available as trading cards. The dog squad too. They're like Pokemon! And they carry these with them!! So if you see a mountie in the city you can ask them for their trading card and they have to hand it over. I've been feeling a little bored recently - I've just got a new hobby.
We stopped for dim sum on the way there. Emily is keen.
And so is Pete.
I'm very unsure what this poster is attempting to communicate.
Pete is entranced by the toy police cars.
Hannah is entranced by the real police guns. Hmmm.
Modern technology.
His reading has just leapt since he turned one.
I thought these were the tools of the trade for Vancouver police, but apparently they're confiscated weapons. Is that a blowpipe? Suddenly it seems sensible to carry guns.
You're nicked, sunshine.
18 years inside! And then you can leave for university.
They were certainly not suitable for this patron.
Which one was Errol's room?
Why don't you lie on the table for me to take a photo, Hannah? It's for the blog!
Round up the usual suspects.
Who is Keyser Soze? He is supposed to be Turkish. Some say his father was German. Nobody believed he was real. Nobody ever saw him or knew anybody that ever worked directly for him, but to hear Kobayashi tell it, anybody could have worked for Soze. You never knew. That was his power. The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist. And like that - pfff. He's gone.
