Except that there are two bus tour companies in Vancouver, and only one needs to offer half-price tickets to attract customers.
To be fair, the first part of the trip was rather nice. The bus had a recorded commentary, complete with sound effects and passable British accents for the historical sailors and soldiers who decided that this was a good place for a city. The driver added his own comments, mostly about shops and the best hospital to go to, and we hopped-off for a coffee and a wander at Granville Island.
"Bus! Bus! Bus!" said Pete throughout.
The second bus, an hour later, was not quite as successful. The driver forgot/didn't know how to work the recorded commentary, and it was replaced with luminary facts like "that's the oldest hotel in Vancouver" and "that's a nice fish restaurant", as well as a fair amount about his marriage. The bus was vaguely open-topped, in that there was a plastic covering over half, but unfortunately it was also open-backed which meant that much of the exhaust fumes blew inside, lulling passengers into a soporific petrochemical haze. I think it ran on biodiesel - there was the vague smell of chip fat.
"Bus! Bus! Bus!" said Pete, then fell asleep.
He didn't miss much, and we hopped-off where we'd first hopped-on, and would have been hopping-mad had we paid full price. Back to Shanks's pony for us, although that might be harder for Pete to say.
Hopping-on at the Westin.
Popular at this time of year.
A PSL (pumpkin spice latte) at Agro Cafe on Granville Island.
Trade picked up once we'd reboarded.
Asphyxiation, or a judgement on the commentary? Luckily, the latter.
