daylight saving time: did we really understand what we were choosing?

It's November, and British Columbia has made a major change to how we keep time. We are moving to permanent daylight saving time, meaning no more changing our clocks twice a year.

But there's something about this decision that deserves a closer look.

Remember the provincial consultation in 2019?

The government reported that 93% of respondents supported staying on daylight saving time permanently.

That sounds fairly decisive. But what exactly were people asked?

The main survey presented two choices:

1. Continue changing clocks twice a year.
2. Stay on daylight saving time permanently.

There was a third option that wasn't included in the main survey: permanent standard time.

Why does that matter?

Because these choices have very different consequences, particularly during the winter months.

What does permanent daylight saving time mean for Vancouver?

Around the winter solstice in December, sunrise will be approximately 9:05 a.m., while sunset will be around 5:15 p.m.

Think about that for a moment.

Children getting ready for school in darkness. Parents heading to work before the sun comes up. People commuting, walking, cycling and waiting for buses in the dark well into the morning.

Yes, we gain more light in the evening, but we also push morning daylight later.

There were actually three choices worth comparing:

• Permanent daylight saving time: darker mornings, lighter evenings.
• Permanent standard time: brighter mornings, earlier sunsets.
• Changing clocks twice a year: the system we previously had.

Sleep researchers have also raised concerns about permanent daylight saving time because standard time more closely follows our natural circadian rhythms.

So here's my question.

If the government wanted public input, why weren't all three options presented equally?

Why weren't people shown actual sunrise and sunset times for December, January and June?

Why wasn't there a simple visual comparison showing what daily life would look like under each option?

A survey can produce a very impressive percentage, but the quality of a public decision depends on the information people receive before answering.

This isn't about blaming people for choosing what sounded appealing. Most of us like sunshine after work. I certainly understand that.

But there's a difference between asking people whether they want more evening daylight and helping them understand that winter mornings could remain dark until after 9 a.m.

Public consultation should mean informed participation, not simply choosing between the options put in front of us.

And perhaps that's the bigger lesson here.

When governments ask the public to make decisions that affect everyday life, shouldn't we be given the whole picture?

What do you think? Did you understand what permanent daylight saving time would mean for our winter mornings?

#BritishColumbia #DaylightSavingTime #PermanentDaylightSaving #PublicConsultation #GovernmentTransparency #Vancouver #WinterSunrise #CircadianRhythm #PublicInterest #InformedChoices

 

TransLink: $173 if you don't pay, but what if your vending machine won't let you?

There is another side to this Compass Card vending machine problem that TransLink needs to address.

If you travel on the SkyTrain without proof of payment, you can receive a $173 fare infraction ticket.

That's not a small penalty for someone living on a limited income.

In fact, TransLink has been increasing fare enforcement patrols. Many of us remember the enforcement blitzes a couple of years ago, when Transit Police and security personnel were checking passengers throughout the system.

TransLink said its August 2024 enforcement campaign was intended to reduce fare evasion and recover an estimated $5 million annually in lost fares.

I understand that public transportation costs money to operate. I understand that people who can afford to pay should pay their fares.

But here is my question:

What happens when a passenger actually wants to pay, has the money in their pocket, but the Compass vending machine won't accept it?

I have now experienced this twice.

Both times, my toonies wouldn't work in the machine. Both times, I ended up having to put in a $20 bill.

The first time, I received $8 in Compass credit and only $4 back in change. I still don't know where the other $8 went.

What if I hadn't had a $20 bill?

What if I had only brought enough toonies and loonies for my trip?

Am I supposed to risk travelling without proof of payment because the machine won't accept my money?

And if a Transit Police officer checks my fare, am I expected to explain that TransLink's own equipment wouldn't let me purchase one?

Would that explanation protect me from a $173 fine?

This is where the system needs to be examined.

TransLink cannot place the entire responsibility on passengers while ignoring the reliability of its own payment infrastructure.

If fare enforcement is important enough to warrant increased patrols, surely maintaining working payment machines is equally important.

I want an investigation into:

• How many Compass vending machines are rejecting coins?
• How often are customers losing money through failed transactions?
• Are machines being regularly tested?
• Is there a process to protect passengers who cannot purchase a ticket because of equipment failure?
• What instructions are Transit Police given when a passenger reports a malfunctioning machine?
• How many complaints have been received about coin acceptance and incorrect change?

And most importantly, what happens to someone who genuinely cannot afford another $20 bill?

We have people living in poverty, seniors counting their pennies, students trying to get to school, and people struggling to get to work.

Public transit is supposed to be accessible.

It shouldn't become a situation where the passenger faces a $173 penalty for something that may be caused by TransLink's own equipment.

Accountability has to work both ways.

If passengers are expected to follow the rules, TransLink must ensure its machines work, its payment systems are reliable and people have a fair opportunity to pay.

I am asking for a formal investigation and a public response.

Because $173 is a lot of money when you're already struggling to get by.

And so is $20 when it's the only cash you have.

TransLink, we need answers.

#TransLink #CompassCard #VancouverTransit #TransitPolice #FareEnforcement #PublicTransportation #Poverty #Accessibility #Accountability #CostOfLiving

TransLink, where does the change go?

 

TransLink, where does the change go? An investigation into Compass Card vending machines

Dear TransLink,

We need to talk about your Compass Card vending machines.

Twice now, I have experienced problems trying to use coins to load my Compass Card.

The first time, the machine would not accept my toonies. I eventually had to put in a $20 bill. The machine credited $8 to my Compass Card and returned only $4 in change. That left $8 unaccounted for in the transaction.

Now, it has happened again. I couldn't get the machine to work with my change, and once again I had to resort to putting in a $20 bill.

What exactly is going on?

Your own website advertises that Compass vending machines accept coins and bills up to $20.

But what happens to someone who only has change?

What happens to a senior living on a limited pension, a student, someone receiving income assistance, or someone who has carefully budgeted their last few dollars for transportation?

Not everyone carries a debit or credit card. Not everyone has a $20 bill. And not everyone can afford to have their money tied up in a malfunctioning vending machine.

There is something particularly frustrating about a machine that won't accept the very coins it is advertised to accept, leaving customers to break a $20 bill and potentially receive more unusable coins in return.

This is not a minor inconvenience. It is an accessibility and affordability issue.

Public transportation is an essential service. It connects people to employment, medical appointments, grocery stores, education and family.

For people already struggling financially, every dollar matters.

We talk constantly about making public transportation accessible, encouraging people to leave their cars at home and providing affordable alternatives.

Yet here we are, with payment machines that may prevent people from using the payment method they actually have available.

And let's consider the bigger picture.

Vancouver is experiencing an affordability crisis. People are living on extremely limited incomes. Some are homeless. Others are working multiple jobs and still struggling to get by.

Why should accessing public transportation become another obstacle?

I am requesting a formal investigation.

I want TransLink to:

1. Investigate why Compass vending machines are rejecting $2 coins and other coins.
2. Examine whether this is an isolated problem or occurring across multiple stations.
3. Audit the machines' coin acceptance, change dispensing and transaction records.
4. Explain what happens to money when a machine fails to accept coins or returns incorrect change.
5. Identify how customers can recover money lost through these malfunctions.
6. Explain what maintenance and quality-control procedures are in place.
7. Provide a timeline for correcting any recurring problems.

I also want to know who is accountable.

TransLink is governed by a Board of Directors, chaired by Allan Seckel, and its CEO is Kevin Quinn.

I would like this complaint brought to the attention of both management and the Board.

I am not interested in being told simply to use another payment method.

I want the machines to do what TransLink says they are supposed to do.

A question for TransLink:

If someone arrives at a SkyTrain station with nothing but a handful of toonies and loonies, are they supposed to be able to purchase their fare?

Or has public transportation quietly become another service that works best for people who have bank accounts, credit cards and enough money to absorb the inconvenience when something goes wrong?

People who are already struggling financially should not have to fight a vending machine to access public transportation.

Please investigate this. And please explain where our money is going.

A public transit system should serve the public. All of the public.

This is not just about a few coins. It is about accessibility, accountability and treating people with dignity.

 

peace begins with how we treat one another

There is something worth thinking about in the recent controversy surrounding the Nobel Peace Prize.

Donald Trump wanted the Nobel Peace Prize. He made no secret of it. When the 2026 prize was awarded to South African jurist Navi Pillay instead, his reaction became another public spectacle.

But let's put the award aside for a moment.

What does it mean to be a leader? And what kind of example are we setting for future generations?

Professionalism, manners, ethics and respect aren't old-fashioned ideas. They are the foundations of how we live together, how we resolve disagreements and how we build trust.

You don't have to agree with someone to treat them with dignity. You don't have to like a decision to respond with grace. And you certainly don't have to resort to insults, profanity or personal attacks when things don't go your way.

In fact, that's when character matters most.

Leadership comes with responsibility. The words of people in positions of power travel much further than ordinary conversations. They are heard by children, repeated by supporters, reported around the world and sometimes adopted as acceptable behaviour.

What happens when the people at the top demonstrate that it's perfectly acceptable to insult someone who disagrees with you, belittle an individual who receives recognition instead of you, or publicly disparage an entire country because you didn't get what you wanted?

What are young people supposed to learn from that?

We spend so much time talking about bullying in schools, respectful workplaces, online harassment and teaching children to manage their emotions. Yet the behaviour of influential adults can undermine those very lessons.

We cannot teach respect while modelling disrespect.

And there's an irony in campaigning for a Nobel Peace Prize while responding to disappointment with hostility and insults.

Peace isn't simply the absence of war. It requires diplomacy, patience, listening, compromise, accountability and the ability to disagree without turning another person into an enemy.

It requires recognizing that other people have dignity, even when they don't give us what we want.

Nobody expects world leaders to be perfect. They are human, and they will make mistakes. But professionalism also means knowing when to step back, consider your words and take responsibility for your actions.

An apology can demonstrate more leadership than a thousand speeches.

The Nobel Peace Prize is not a popularity contest or a participation trophy. It represents a particular ideal: the work of bringing people and nations closer to peace.

Perhaps we should all be asking ourselves a simple question:

If we want future generations to build a more peaceful world, shouldn't the adults leading today's world demonstrate what that actually looks like?

You cannot demand respect while refusing to show it.

You cannot build bridges while constantly burning them.

And it's pretty difficult to create peace when your first response to disappointment is to swear at people.

Peace begins with how we treat one another. That lesson shouldn't be too difficult for any of us to understand.

 

when you need a phone to get help, who helps the people without one?

The hidden cost of accessing government services in Canada.

I learned something about the telephone system the hard way.

During the CERB confusion, when Canadians were being told to call the government for answers, I tried. Again and again.

You would finally get connected, only to be told to wait. Seventeen minutes, sometimes longer.

At the time, I had a mobile plan that cost me $50 a month. It included just 100 daytime minutes and 1 MB of data.

Think about that.

I could spend a significant portion of my monthly calling allowance simply waiting for someone at a government department to answer a question.

And what if I got disconnected?

What if I needed to call back?

What if I couldn't afford another month of service?

My phone situation has only recently changed. Between 2019 and this year, I spent much of my time in Mexico with my phone on airplane mode. I was barely using it, but maintaining access to a phone in Canada was still another expense.

That experience got me thinking about something much bigger.

what about people who don't have a phone?

We increasingly expect people to manage their lives through technology.

Apply for benefits online. Verify your identity. Receive a security code. Call a department. Download a document. Check an application. Wait for a callback.

But what happens when you are homeless?

Phones get lost, stolen, damaged or disconnected. People living outside may not have somewhere safe to charge a device. They may not have an internet connection, a permanent mailing address or money to maintain a monthly plan.

Some people don't have identification or the documents required to get through online verification.

Others simply cannot afford a phone.

And yet, these are often the very people who need government assistance most.

Imagine being hungry, sleeping outside and trying to apply for income assistance. You are told to call a number, but you have no phone.

Imagine finding a borrowed phone, getting through to an automated system, being placed on hold, and then losing the connection because the owner needs their phone back.

Imagine having to explain your circumstances repeatedly to different departments, none of which seems able to take responsibility for helping you.

How is someone supposed to get back on their feet under those circumstances?

technology is not the same thing as accessibility

We hear a lot about digital transformation, efficiency and modernizing government services.

Technology can certainly make services easier for some people.

But making something available online doesn't automatically make it accessible.

And replacing human assistance with automated systems doesn't necessarily save money if people cannot get the help they need.

The federal government's own reports have acknowledged barriers experienced by people who are homeless or living in poverty, including difficulties with telephone access, internet access, identity verification and obtaining documents.

These are not imaginary problems. They are known barriers.

Yet the responsibility for overcoming them is frequently left to the individual.

the hidden cost of waiting

There is another issue here: who pays for the time spent waiting?

If a government department has long telephone queues, the person calling may be paying for that time through their mobile plan.

Someone with unlimited calling might barely notice.

Someone with 100 minutes a month notices every minute.

Someone with a prepaid phone may run out of credit before reaching an actual person.

The department may record a call as answered or eventually completed, but that doesn't tell us what it cost the person trying to get help.

And this brings me back to the question of accountability.

We can measure call volumes, waiting times, customer satisfaction and service targets. But are we measuring how many people never get through at all?

How many abandon the call?

How many cannot call because they have no phone?

How many miss deadlines because they cannot access the system?

Those people may not appear in the department's customer-service statistics.

Their absence can make a broken system look more successful than it really is.

a basic right shouldn't depend on a monthly phone bill

I'm not suggesting that everyone needs a government-issued smartphone.

I'm suggesting that essential government services must have alternatives.

• Free telephone access to government departments.
• Call-back options that don't require people to remain on hold.
• In-person assistance for people who cannot use digital services.
• Community access points where people can use a phone, computer and scanner.
• Flexible identity verification for people without permanent addresses or conventional documents.
• A way to apply for and receive benefits without owning a smartphone.

And these alternatives need to be properly funded and available, not just listed on a government website.

who is being left out?

There is a difference between making a service available and making sure people can actually use it.

A person who is housed, employed and connected may never realize how many steps are involved in accessing assistance.

But take away the phone, the address, the internet, the identification and the money to maintain them.

Suddenly, even asking for help becomes an obstacle course.

We talk about reducing poverty, ending homelessness and helping people become independent.

But independence requires access.

You cannot tell someone to get back on their feet while putting essential services behind a wall of technology they cannot afford.

And perhaps the most important question is this:

If someone needs government assistance but cannot afford the technology required to access it, who is responsible for making sure they aren't left behind?

Government services are supposed to serve the public.

That includes the people without phones.

Because being poor should not mean being disconnected from the very services designed to help you.

#PovertyInCanada #Homelessness #DigitalDivide #GovernmentAccountability #CRA #CERB #SocialAssistance #DigitalAccessibility #HousingCrisis #LeaveNoOneBehind

the morning after halloween

 the morning after halloween

Halloween is over. Día de Muertos begins.

It was 5:30 in the morning, and I was still awake.

A friend's clock had been ticking all night. Apparently, he can not hear it anymore, but I certainly can. So, rather than lie there listening to every second pass, I decided to go for a little walk.

The streets were quiet. Halloween decorations still lingered, and the excitement of the previous evening had given way to the stillness of early morning.

Then I noticed a woman going through the recycling.

I'd seen her around before, carrying her belongings in grocery bags. This morning, she was looking for refundable cans.

I stopped for a moment.

There is something about seeing an elderly person searching through discarded bottles and cans that stays with you. Not because the person is doing anything wrong, but because you wonder how we have arrived at a place where this is how someone has to get through the day.

I thought about how easily circumstances could have been different for me.

Not long ago, I was struggling to figure out where I would live, how I would find work and how I would manage to keep going. A little help from family, a part-time cleaning job and an unexpected opportunity to get away have changed what the next few months look like.

Sometimes the distance between having a roof over your head and searching through recycling is smaller than people imagine.

I went back inside, and from the window I noticed movement in the alley across the street. There she was again, searching through another recycling bin.

At that very moment, a very long limousine rolled down the street.

I couldn't help noticing the contrast.

One person searching for a few refundable cans. Another travelling in a vehicle that probably cost more than most people's monthly rent.

Perhaps there was a perfectly ordinary explanation for the limousine. Maybe several people had hired it together. Still, the timing was something else.

And it got me thinking about the city I am about to leave.

Another familiar building is apparently facing redevelopment, with talk of towers reaching extraordinary heights. Neighbourhoods are changing, housing is becoming increasingly difficult to find, and even the everyday character of our streets seems to be shifting.

In six months, I wonder how much will have changed.

Will I recognise the neighbourhood? Will the familiar places still be there? What will happen to the people who are already struggling to find their place in it?

I'm leaving Vancouver for a while, and honestly, I'm looking forward to the change of scenery.

But before I go, I want to acknowledge something.

I am grateful.

Grateful for the family who stepped up when I needed help. Grateful for the part-time work that gives me a little breathing room. Grateful for a plane ticket, a bicycle, a few bananas and some honey.

Grateful for a lovely Halloween evening, the wonderful costumes, the decorated houses and the memories of taking my kid trick-or-treating years ago.

Grateful that the rain washed my murals clean and that, with the sunshine and high tide, they were looking beautiful again.

Grateful to be part of the Eastside Culture Crawl.

Grateful for a little message from my kid.

And grateful for Orion, visible in the early morning sky.

I will see that familiar constellation again in Mexico.

Today is Día de Muertos, a day for remembering, honouring and celebrating life. It seems an appropriate day to reflect on how fragile, unpredictable and precious our lives really are.

We spend so much time worrying about what comes next that sometimes we forget to notice what we have right now.

I don't know what Vancouver will look like when I return.

But I know this: nobody should have to search through rubbish bins to get by while we build taller towers and stretch our city further into the sky.

A city should be measured by more than its skyline.

It should also be measured by how it looks after the people who call it home.

For today, I'm counting my blessings, looking forward to the journey, and wishing everyone a little more kindness.

Happy Día de Muertos.

My Mother

Family

Family

My mom

#Vancouver #Kitsilano #HousingCrisis #Homelessness #DíaDeMuertos #Gratitude #Community #UrbanDevelopment #PeopleMatter #APlaceToCallHome

halloween in the floating village

 

halloween in the floating village: when the billionaires came ashore

October 31. Some years after the world as we knew it came to an end.

There were no trick-or-treaters knocking on doors this Halloween. There weren't many doors left to knock on, and nobody was selling bags of miniature chocolate bars.

The old world had changed.

The stock markets were silent. Governments had collapsed or become little more than memories. Banks, corporations and international supply chains that once seemed indestructible had disappeared. There were no paycheques, no mortgages, no shopping malls full of Halloween decorations, and certainly no one arguing about the price of pumpkin spice lattes.

People had other things to worry about.

Food. Water. Shelter. Staying warm.

And finding a way forward.

But something rather extraordinary had happened along the coast.

The cruise ships had come together.

One by one, enormous vessels that once carried thousands of holidaymakers around the world had been brought into sheltered waters. Yachts, ferries, old fishing boats and even a few extravagant megayachts joined them.

They were secured alongside one another, forming something that resembled a giant floating village.

It wasn't particularly pretty.

Some ships were rusting. Others had broken windows, faded paint and empty swimming pools. The enormous dining rooms that once served endless buffets had become communal kitchens.

The former luxury suites were now homes.

The decks had been transformed into gardens. Vegetables grew in enormous planters. Someone had figured out how to grow potatoes in recycled containers, while another group was experimenting with floating gardens.

The swimming pools? Some had become water storage. Others were being used for growing fish.

There were workshops, classrooms, a small medical centre and places where people could repair things rather than throw them away.

The old world had been very good at throwing things away.

This new one couldn't afford to.

And the billionaires?

Well, some had arrived with their enormous yachts, only to discover that a million-dollar vessel was not much use without fuel, a functioning supply chain or someone willing to maintain it.

A few had brought their crews. Others had arrived alone.

It didn't take long to discover that money wasn't particularly useful anymore.

Knowing how to repair an engine was.

Knowing how to grow food was.

Knowing how to work with other people was perhaps the most valuable skill of all.

There were no VIP decks. No exclusive restaurants. No priority boarding.

Everyone had something to contribute.

And if they didn't know how, someone taught them.

On Halloween evening, a group of children decorated the entrance to the floating village with lanterns made from old glass jars. Someone had carved a pumpkin, and a few others had managed to find enough fabric to make costumes.

There was a pirate, a mermaid, a rather convincing sea monster and one little boy dressed as a billionaire.

He wore an oversized suit, a cardboard crown and carried a toy yacht.

"Who are you supposed to be?" someone asked.

"A billionaire," he announced proudly.

"And what do you do?"

"I own everything!"

The adults laughed.

"Not anymore, you don't," someone called from the kitchen.

For a moment, everyone laughed a little harder than they probably should have.

Later, as the sun disappeared behind the coastline, the village lights began to glow. A few small solar systems powered the lanterns. Someone played music on an old guitar. The kitchen smelled of roasted vegetables, fresh bread and something resembling pumpkin soup.

Nobody was checking their bank balance.

Nobody was worrying about tomorrow's commute.

Nobody was trying to impress the neighbours.

They were simply grateful to be warm, fed and together.

Perhaps that was the strangest Halloween of all.

The monsters hadn't come out of the dark.

They had been part of the old world all along: greed, excess, indifference and the belief that there would always be more.

And somewhere, among the rusting cruise ships and newly planted gardens, people were beginning to discover that the world didn't need to be rebuilt exactly as it had been.

It could be rebuilt differently.

Happy Halloween from the floating village.

Sometimes the end of one world is the beginning of another.

when a graduation party becomes a public safety emergency

 

when a graduation party becomes a public safety emergency: where is the accountability?

There are some stories that leave me shaking my head, and this is one of them.

A graduation celebration aboard a charter boat in Vancouver's Burrard Inlet turned into a major emergency when a vessel carrying more than 150 students and chaperones ran aground near Maplewood Flats.

Thankfully, nobody was injured. The Coast Guard and marine rescue personnel came to the rescue, evacuating everyone safely.

But what initially sounded like a boating accident has taken a much more troubling turn.

According to the cruise operator's findings, someone allegedly removed the protective cage covering the emergency engine shut-off and activated the kill switch while the vessel was underway.

The engine stopped. The current pushed the boat off course, and the propeller struck a sandbar.

If this account is accurate, we're not talking about an unfortunate mechanical failure. We're talking about someone interfering with a safety mechanism on a passenger vessel carrying a boatload of young people.

And that brings me to some questions.

transportation investigation versus criminal investigation

The Transportation Safety Board is investigating the incident. That's important, but a transportation safety investigation and a criminal investigation serve different purposes.

The TSB looks at what happened, why it happened and how similar incidents can be prevented.

Police investigate potential criminal conduct, identify suspects and determine whether charges are warranted.

So where does the police investigation stand?

The RCMP marine unit attended the original incident, but I haven't found confirmation that a separate criminal investigation has been opened.

If someone deliberately tampered with emergency equipment, shouldn't that be investigated?

Who removed the protective cage? Who activated the switch? Was it a prank? Was it intentional sabotage? Was anyone aware of what they were doing?

We don't know. And that's precisely why an investigation matters.

who pays for the rescue?

Let's talk about public resources.

A major marine rescue operation involving the Coast Guard and other emergency personnel was required to bring everyone to safety.

These services exist for emergencies. Nobody should hesitate to rescue people because of their financial circumstances, age, background or social status.

Every life matters.

But emergency services are not toys, and public resources are not unlimited.

There are people sleeping on Vancouver sidewalks tonight. People who cannot afford rent, food or basic necessities. People waiting for help, struggling to survive and wondering where they will sleep tomorrow.

Meanwhile, a graduation celebration involving well-resourced families required a substantial public emergency response.

I'm not suggesting those young people should have been left stranded. Absolutely not.

I'm asking whether the person responsible, if deliberate tampering is established, will be held accountable.

what are young people learning?

Graduation is supposed to mark a transition into adulthood.

It's a celebration of achievement, friendships, possibilities and the beginning of another chapter.

But adulthood also comes with responsibility.

A prank stops being funny when it puts 150 lives at risk.

An emergency switch is not a toy. A passenger vessel is not a playground. And the people operating it have a responsibility to keep everyone aboard safe.

If someone deliberately interfered with the vessel's safety equipment, there should be consequences appropriate to what the investigation establishes.

Being young doesn't mean being beyond accountability. Neither does having money, connections or influential parents.

And if nobody is identified, we still need to understand why this happened and what safeguards failed.

questions the public deserves answered

1. Has the RCMP opened a criminal investigation into the alleged tampering?
2. If not, why not?
3. Has anyone been interviewed or identified as a potential suspect?
4. Was the protective cage examined for fingerprints or other evidence?
5. Were passengers and crew interviewed?
6. Were security cameras or other recordings available?
7. Could the person responsible face criminal charges?
8. Who is paying for the emergency response?
9. What additional safety measures will be introduced?
10. Most importantly, what message are we sending if someone can potentially put more than 150 lives at risk and there is no meaningful accountability?

this isn't about privilege. it's about responsibility.

I am relieved that everyone made it home safely. I wouldn't wish that experience on anyone, and I'm certainly not blaming the graduates collectively.

But I don't think we should simply move on because nobody was hurt.

Sometimes we measure the seriousness of an incident by its outcome rather than by the potential consequences.

This time, everyone survived. That doesn't make the alleged actions any less serious.

Imagine if the current had been stronger, if the boat had struck something else, or if someone had gone overboard.

We could be having a very different conversation.

I want to know whether police are investigating, whether anyone will be held responsible and whether the public will receive some answers.

Because accountability shouldn't depend on who you are, how much money your family has or whether an incident makes the evening news.

A prank is only funny when everyone gets to go home safely.

And public safety deserves more than a shrug and a transportation report.

Vancouver #BurrardInlet #PublicSafety #Accountability #MarineSafety #RCMP