It's full of my spit.
I can't help it. Every time I bike over the Lion's Gate or the Iron Workers Memorial bridge, I stop at the apex and spit. If it's not too windy, you can see your loogie all the way down, and it's a long way down. After about four seconds, your depth perception goes screwy and you're positive it's about to vanish into the waves, but it keeps going. After five seconds, you realize it's still got a ways to go, but after six, you think it's done for. And then it keeps falling for two more seconds.
And then you spit again and watch it all over again.
Well, maybe you don't, but I sure do. I can't help it. I know boats drive through that inlet and seabirds float on it, and maybe crazy people even do swim in it, and I know it's wrong. I wouldn't want anybody to spit in my shower water, that's for sure, but I go ahead and do it anyway. I spit in that water that's going to get all over people's boats and seagulls.
I feel like hell about it.
And I want you to all know about it, because I'd hate for anyone I know to swim in my spit: don't swim in the Burrard Inlet.
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