Damn them!

I work in... well, let's just say a tourist district of Urban Vancouver, okay? In front of my building -- a charming, if a little too creaky, building that dates back to the early days of the 20th century -- happens to be one of Vancouver's most-loved quirky landmarks.

The front of the building is filled with little clothing and touristy-gimmick shops, but if you look ever so closely, there's one plain black door, and that is the gate to this portal I've come to now know as hell -- err, the office, I mean.

Anyhow, hordes of drooling people will loiter lamely in front of the building, vying for better photograph positioning, as they watch the old-style mechanics of this city's landmark hiss and groan through its varied stages.

Every time I enter or leave, I invariably have to nudge a Japanese, German, American, or Australian person aside, bitterly droning, "Ex-cuu-uuse meeee..." every two seconds until I reach clearance.

Tourists suck.