That was it. The moment that made history. But this time there was no gold medal, nor a Stanley Cup. All that was left to the ground were burnt flags, garbage, broken glass, and alcohol streams. All that is left in our minds are degrading images of drunk, high, and sadistic anarchists, criminals, and grungy followers destroying our city.

Let’s rewind.

Friday, June 10, 2011. The Canucks of Vancouver win 1-0 against the Bruins of Boston. Game 5 of the Stanley Cup. Two days closer to celebration. The game was tight, the game was strong. Around 100,000 fans reunited downtown to watch the game on the big screens. And there it is: Max Lappiere scores the first and last goal of the game. Notching his team to within one win of the Cup. Evoking joy and sanity in the city. When the period ends with a third-game win for our team, the crowd disconnected from the ground, jumping and bouncing around from happiness and excitement. Not only flags were flying high, but also smiles and high fives! My hand couldn’t get tired of clapping people’s flat palms. My cheeks were holding my smile up high. Celebrations went on and on. It was a good night, yes, a good night.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011. The Canucks of Vancouver lost 4-0 against the Bruins of Boston. Game 7. The Stanley Cup. I rushed my way down to the city to embrace one more time the energy of the crowd. Yes, I was hoping for another win. Perhaps I was selfish or too positive. But I felt that we could do this, this time. The sun was warm, the fans were ready. I squeezed my way amongst old and young Canucks for a place to glimpse. The game was hard to see. I mean, there were so many people in front of me… But seriously, it was hard to see. The last minutes of it were the most painful. I mean, bottles and shoes were thrown at the big screen until it broke. We couldn’t see the end, only could we imagine. It could’ve stopped right there. We knew our defeat and so be it.

We arrived second, didn’t we? Isn’t this enough for us, Canucks? Yes, it was. But for an incomprehensible percentage of idiots, calling a riot in our beautiful streets seemed the plan for the night. After the main screen broke, a car got flipped, then burned. Black smoke ruined the air and rioters got hit by the flame; hit by the flame of destruction and mayhem. Cocktail bombs were thrown to the ground, and glass bottles were propelled in the air. Reactions arose amongst the crowd: fires, fights, screams, vomits, loots, blood. The perfect recipe for a nightmare in beautiful BC.

Currents of hundreds of fans were crashing one way, then the other. At some point, following the pod, I had no idea if I was running away from something, or running after something. The city was turned into a massive ocean infested with crazy Canucks.

Fools were jumping on cars set on fire, while others were looting stores and breaking windows. Some were shooting cocktail bombs at cops, while others were smashing residents’ vehicles. Aren’t we in 2011 where the invention of such things like iPhone and social media offer direct online information? Yes, fools. You are all fools to think you will be able to run away safely from your mess.

I feel angry. I feel sad. I feel scared. But somehow, I am standing in the middle of this civil disorder. Call it excitement, call it curiosity, I feel ashamed, but I wanted/needed to be there and capture the moment, from my own eyes. And let me tell you: it was absolutely insane.

After the army of police lined up with their mounted team and announced their advancement in the square to disperse the crowd, I decided it was time to leave. I snapped some more pictures and we left the scene on our motorcycle, dodging flying items as we rode through the chaos and managing to make our way through the police line. When I thought I was getting away from all this commotion, it didn’t take too long for me to realize that the riot had already spread to all the nearby streets. The parking garages were filled with people vandalizing cars. An old man collecting money at the entrance of the garage was forced out of his booth after the window was smashed. Rocks and glass were being thrown, and people were getting injured. There was blood everywhere. Two young men with bandanas covering their faces robbed a private boutique, stealing mannequins and clothing, then rushed past me while running. A 10-year-old kid hit an advertisement lightbox with a hockey stick, breaking the glass and gleefully replaying the hit. What the hell happened to our citizens? Damn. That’s it. I’d had enough.