Last night was awful. There were violent riots in Vancouver last night after a stupid hockey game. Building after building was trashed. Things were lit on fire. Too many fires to count. The transportation system was closed down and all the local hospitals went on to Orange Alert. Ready for massive casualties.
I thought at first they were exaggerating. They weren't. My kids were down there. In the neighbourhood and in the midst. My step son was on shift as a paramedic. My niece with her little cats and a friend with her two year old son. People couldn't get in or out. Terrifying to me.
My step son sent a message saying that it was "ugly" down there. He has to have armed escort to enable him to pick up the casualties. All fueled by drunken and extreme testosterone behaviour. Because our hockey team lost. Not for peace or democracy or a higher ideal but for a stick, some ice and a puck.
I could see the smoke from my house.
Happened so quickly. The darker side of discontent. Fueled by adrenalin, alcohol and bad drugs. So terrifying to see rage. They even aimed at our Art Gallery and Library.
This morning is different. Hundreds of people have spontaneously gone into the street and have started to clean up. Not for money. They are offering hugs and support. They are showing our best. Hundreds of young people.