Pigeon Street

I’m a terrible sleep walker… If I’m not screaming out of the window of high rise buildings thinking that someone’s just stolen my bicycle (???) I’m jumping out of my skin thinking that snakes are falling from the ceiling and on to my head. Luckily these are just moments of insanity. What’s not imagination trickery however are the pesky little things that accompany my adventures… If it’s not ants it’s bed bugs and if it’s not bed bugs it’s pigeons…

I’m always a little bit apprehensive when I open the door to a room for the first time. I've realised that during the split second of door opening action I hold my breath (just as I do when I’m taking a photograph) because I never know what to expect… the size, the smell, the dust, the state of the bed, the dead body in the wardrobe etc…  

Now the last thing I expected to find when I opened the door into my Vancouver ‘hotel’ room was to be flapped around the face by a pigeon.

Yeah you read that right. After dragging my very very very heavy (very very very heavy) suitcase up two of the largest flights of stairs I have ever walked up (until a Brighton b&b in May 2013 that is) I finally got to the door of my room. I turned the key and was nearly knocked out by a panic stricken GIGANTIC screeching pigeon and it’s flapping wings… Who in turn was nearly knocked out by a panic stricken GIGANTIC screeching human and it’s flapping arms. I've checked into a room before to find somebody asleep on the bed but a pigeon is a first. Still… I think a chocolate on the pillow would have been a more customary welcoming gift.

After the battle of ushering the pigeon out of the window I went straight back down to reception to highlight them of the situation and beg for a different room. Comically the receptionist was a Spaniard whose vocabulary hadn't had the pleasure of being introduced to what I am sure is the most important of the bird family. Something I am now passionately campaigning schools to include in their language curriculum after numeracy, time and food… bird species. So I had to bring out my best acting capabilities to describe how there was a pigeon in my room. After realising that a pigeon was not in fact a chicken which was what I was seemingly acting out I cooed and flapped my charade. I’m used to people laughing at me and looking at me with perplexed looks so I got the hint quite quickly that she hadn't got a clue what I was going on about. In the end, I just said the word ‘bird’ and hallebloodyluiah I was given another room.  

I was quite excited, if a little apprehensive about getting this new room as the kind Spaniard upgraded me to a double room. Whoop I hear you cry… Well I bloody cried as it turned out to be a room right by a Chinese takeaway with their ventilation duct blowing right into my window. Fandabibloodydosy. I went from sharing a room with a live pigeon to sharing a room with the aroma of the carcasses of god only knows what. I thought it would be ok though as you get used to smells don’t you. Well not this time… Instead of my usual sleepwalks and hallucinations I found myself waking up in the middle of the night thinking I was being drowned in a tub of Szechuan cuisine. On the plus side though I woke up every morning craving fruit and salad which was a delight to my dieting aspirations. So you know, swings and roundabouts and all that.

I'd actually stayed in this 'hotel' a week before. I use the word hotel lightly as it was one of those places that called itself 'hotel' but was in fact, more of a hostel. It got really bad reviews on Tripadvisor mainly because of high expectations and low standards. Vancouver is a ridiculously expensive city and I really struggled finding anywhere affordable to stay. In the end I chose a place that was the worst reviewed hotel on Tripadvisor but the cheapest. For this reason I was quite apprehensive on my initial visit. However, with the exception of the deepest, freshest and bloodiest stain I have ever encountered it wasn't that bad. So I wasn't terribly nervous about my impending stay a week later.

           Well, that was until I encountered the ghost of Jack Duckworth flapping before my eyes.