How Not to Fringe

I didn't mean to make the first post of the fall season about what I haven't been able to see, but such has been the case with my Vancouver Fringe experience so far. My own fault, of course. The Fringe, on now through this Sunday at various venues on and around Granville Island--and on and off the Drive--always coincides with the return to school: meaning that I get to see more or less of its offerings depending on how much advance prep I've done and/or how many unexpected administrative curve balls are thrown at me. Let's just say that this year on the former front, "not so much," and on the latter "way too many."

As a performance studies colleague recently put it to me in an email, would that I had "a circa 1985 Delorean to buy more time (and could wear acid wash jeans without shame)."

Yesterday, however, I thought I had a reasonable window in the late afternoon. And so I hopped on my bike and raced down to Granville Island to catch a show--any show, I wasn't going to be choosy--around 4 pm. I blame the traffic on the seawall, but by the time I made it to the Island everything had already started or was sold out.

To be expected on a sunny weekend day. And good for the performers. As for me, I contented myself with watching the touts flog their shows to patrons in line (always fun), and with collecting various handbills--which I'll ideally use to help me choose a show for this weekend. Then I went into the market to buy dinner.

P.