I was visiting the US as a 23-year-old with my mother and her sister. On a whim, the three of us decided to road trip across the border to Vancouver to catch the tail end of the city’s 1986 World Expo. We assumed we’d be able to find accommodation when we got there – and we were wrong.
With no mobile phones or Google to guide us, we traipsed from one hotel to the next, before the inefficiency of such a tactic dawned on us and we headed for Vancouver’s visitor centre. I remember the centre being busy, packed with other panicked accommodation hunters, and close to shutting up shop for the day. But there was a lovely woman who made it her mission to help us, tirelessly telephoning every accommodation provider she could think of – motel, hotel, bed and breakfast, caravan park – all without success.
