Notes from April 9th, YVR:
Walking to my gate for a flight to Toronto, I pass one of YVR's Inuit sculptures on display. Fashioned from bone, it's a wonderful piece of art.
But uh-oh -- smack at its centre, where the bone's been polished and etched, there's an image Vanoc might be interested in. Vancouver 2010's very own Olympic symbol, a stylized Inukshuk. The only thing that's missing is the colour. Brazen, eh. No doubt a serious infringement of copyright. Do you suppose the Inuit sculptor paid the fee to incorporate this trademarked logo?
As I'm jotting these notes, leaning against an upright recycling bin (which really makes a very good stand-up-at desk), I notice an out-of-place object sharing the surface with me. It's a fork, complete with four long, pointy tines. And no, it isn't plastic; it's metal.
What I'd like to know is how did it get here? After all those wand-waving metal detectors and x-ray experts peering into our carry-on bags . . . . And I wonder, if I touch it, will I be implicating myself -- fingerprints, y'know. Will I be considered an accomplice in some act of terrorism, even uncommitted?
I'm not even sure if I dare to report the fork. They might just suggest I was the one who brought it here. About all I can think is, so much for security -- or the show they put on to convince us that it means anything.
Finally, I decide I need to get rid of it. I use the edge of my notebook to flick it down into the bin. It lands in the midst of too many Globe and Mails with a silent thud, no doubt spoiling this lot of paper for the recycler. Paranoid? Of course, but you already knew that.
Besides, there'll be more to come on this. Toronto still beckons.