Elevator Encounter

As I was saying in my last post, Jim n' I had a brief encounter with Vancouver's seedy side on Friday. The tiny theater where we do our test screenings is on the cusp of what's known as Canada's poorest postal code. I've blogged about this neighbourhood before. Those of you who live in BC are obviously very familiar with this area, but for those of you who aren't, I found this little video to be quite compelling: 





Anyhow, our experience wasn't nearly as traumatic as getting a bottle over the head like the guy in that clip, but it was still one of those too-close-for-comfort reality checks. 


First of all, I'll be honest and say that I don't like sharing elevators with anyone, except people I know n' like. I mean, who doesn't? For that awkward minute, you're trapped inside a box sharing your personal space with strangers... or that obnoxious coworker you just can't be bothered with. :P So my comfort level got a lil' skivvy when I saw two people rounding the corner while Jim n' I waited for the elevator in the parkade. 


The first person was a petite young woman. Her pocked, ruddy complexion appeared to have weathered too many years on the hardened streets, even though I'm sure she was only in her early to mid twenties. Her layers of dirty clothes hung off her thin frame like a hanger, and her curly hair was knotted in two messy pigtails. Hunched forward clutching her bag, she didn't make eye contact, but rather took her place directly in front of us so she could occasionally prop herself up against the wall, her skinny legs struggling to stand. I think part of the reason she had trouble standing was because she was wearing her boots wrong - the bottoms of her soles were facing out to the sides, as her feet tried to balance in the part that's supposed to go up your leg. The other reason she had trouble standing was because she was incredibly high.... obviously. 


Her companion was a white-haired man in his mid 70's, wearing a brown suit. He looked like a grandfather hobbit. He was also pretty intoxicated, but I'd say more drunk than stoned. 


The four of us stood there together and waited in uncomfortable silence. (Or at least it was uncomfortable for Jim n' I... I think the other two were way too out of it to notice or care.) Because the elevator was taking forever, I used the extra time to look around for the nearest staircase. The only one I could find was the fire escape, with a warning that an alarm would sound if opened. I walked a few steps towards the parking lot, and pretended to see our producer. "Hey Jim, isn't that Andria?" When Jim came over to look, I whispered, "Let's just wait for the next one... We have time."  So we waited. And they waited. Umm... did I already mention that the elevator was taking FOREVER?!


Finally the pigtailed girl mumbled, "I'm taking the stairs" and quickly stumbled off. The old hobbit grumbled, "Sure, take my money and leave."


An alarm went off shortly thereafter, so I'm assuming she took off down one of the fire escapes. 


Eventually, the elevator came and Jim n' I got in with the hobbit. We pushed the button because he didn't know what he was doing. The elevator had a kick as it shot down to street level. After we got off, the old guy stood there until the door almost closed on him.  I guess that's when he realized that he was supposed to step out as well... Again, he was really quite drunk.  


Sad as this particular situation may be, I still can't help but think about that Seinfeld episode where the hookers were turning tricks at the Jiffy Park in George's car. Y'know, the one where Kramer is dressed up like a pimp in the technicolour dream coat? It's a classic... Unfortunately, it must have some roots in reality, and the reality of this situation was far less entertaining. 


Whenever we drive through East Hastings, I can't help but wonder what has led each of those sad souls to such a desperate place. Like Jim often says, at one point each of those drug-addicted or homeless people was once a precious baby. Adorable, innocent, and with their whole lives ahead of them. Where did it all go wrong? 


Furthermore, seeing that girl in her seriously strung out condition makes me wonder how she ever survives living in the streets? She could barely stand, how could she ever defend herself from muggers, rapists or murderers like that pig farmer Pickton? I suppose she probably has a pimp to "protect" her. Which then leads me to wonder how many of these girls are forced into the sex trade against their will? 


Gawd, it all seems so hopeless, doesn't it? And also so easy to ignore unless you have to confront it face to face.  


While it's a controversial idea, as I grow older, I find myself more in favour of the legalization of prostitution. From what I've read, there's a growing school of thought that believes it would reduce the demand for trafficking, as well as the exploitation and abuse of sex workers. A lot of these young girls and women are afraid to go to the police because they fear that they will be treated as criminals. Additionally, not only would legalization help to protect them from abuse, but prostitutes would be require them to get tested for STD's, which would help stop the spread of AIDS, etc.


Ah yes, but I suppose I should get off my soap box, as I must admit that this is a subject I know very little about. Because really, while it's easy to write with empathy from the comfort of my living room, I hate to admit that the first thought that crossed my mind at that elevator was "crack whore". Such a foul and easy label for what is obviously a very complex n' horrific situation. I should be SO blessed to have never had to walk in her ill-fitting boots. As she headed out into the cold night to find her next trick (or John... I really don't know the terminology? Is it one and the same?), we were headed off to watch another test screening for our movie. I can say with a certain amount of confidence that our futures look bright, and then I wonder what kind of future she'll have? I only had a two minute glimpse into her life, but I know that it can't be easy to get out of that sort of situation. And the saddest part is that there are so many others like her out there.