of respect. They buy those perfectly
cool sunglasses that can look cool just
sitting on top of your head. Their
faces are flawless, not a blemish, not a
scar. They smile at just the
right times and, now that I
think of it, they walk perfect-
ly too. These people don't
seem real. | started to picture
them all there for the sole
purpose of tourism. I could
picture the BC government
making all these flawless
robots that resemble humans
and make them look and act
like they have real destina-
tions and real lives when in
actuality they all end up at
the same building to get
recharged for tomorrow's
jaunt on Robson.
I called a friend to meet
me on Robson so she too
could be witness to this
Robson Street Gattaca effect.
After | her what I had
been s@@ine she simply

: We don't belong

May 1998 Page 10

with the Robson folk; we're more
Gastown types.” I looked myself up
and down in comparison to the people

gracefully walking by. I’m nowhere near

ee eee

their looks in my “getting on in wash-
es” jeans and my everyday looking hair,
as well as my gleaming blemish, but at
least I feel real.
I pressed on that April
day. I walked into Banana
Republic, Armani, and
Virgin records, as well as
Roots and The Gap. I
asked the store clerks
what they thought about
the model-like people
walking the street of
Robson, and in true
Californian valley girl
response they had no idea
what I was talking about.
This can only mean they
too are a part of this
strange X-files, govern-
ment Off Limits mad-
ness. They too were beau-
tiful. One clerk at Cotton
Ginny said, “T definitely
wouldn't say anyone that
comes in here is worthy
of being a model.” I walk

away believing her view is