*Let me preface this by saying that I’m still pretty emotionally shook, so this might be a little messy, but if I don’t write it now I never will.*

It was earlier this year, March I think, when he was in town filming Night at the Museum 3. I was walking around downtown as I often do. When you’ve lived in Vancouver as long as I have you become accustomed to seeing celebrities around town, at least I have, and so I’ve moved past the phase where I get overly excited and ask for a photo and / or an autograph. Usually I just give a nod and say “Hey \[insert celebrity name here\]” as I’m walking past, and usually I’ll receive a “Hey” or a nod in return.

This was different though. This was Robin Williams. A man who captured my imagination like no other when I was just a young kid. I’ve loved Robin Williams since the first time I saw Hook back in the mid 90s, and so it was hard for me to just nonchalantly walk past. There was a slight crowd around him as you can imagine but I was determined to wait my turn and tell this man what an influence he’s been in my life. As the crowd begun to part, and I inched closer and closer to the front, I started to get equal parts nervous and excited. I started thinking about all the kind things I could say, and all the ways I could say them, and before I knew it I was at the front of the line.

There he was. His magnificent glory within reaching distance. My mind went blank and I did what felt natural: I extended my arm for a handshake and introduced myself. He smiled politely, shook my hand, and introduced himself back as if I had no idea who he was. Without thinking I started talking about Hook, how much I loved it and how it’s gotten me through some tough times, and how it’s the one movie I can go back and watch at any time and still enjoy it as much as the first time I watched it. And with a giant smile on my face I went on and on for what felt like an eternity. When I finally stopped talking he smiled back, and I’ll never forget what he said next:

[Thank you for believing.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WFRGz2bz49c)

Thank you for believing. Like we’ve just been through the shit together. I get so emotional thinking about it now but it was so thrilling to me at the time. He asked me if I wanted a picture and like a fool I said no. I told him that meeting him was enough for me, and that I didn’t need a picture to remember it.

---

It’s crazy to me that I met this man just a few months ago and now he’s gone. What I’m sure was just another moment for him is one that I’ll cherish forever, and I’m thankful that I was able to tell him how much he meant to me before he passed.

This is a man who changed the world, and it’s a far worse place without him.

Bangarang, Mr. Williams.

Gone but not forgotten.

The One Time I Met Robin Williams

The scent of coffee is rich in the air as the café door closes itself behind us. Inside, the atmosphere is tense, as if the building holds a secret. I know this used to be a regular coffee shop. A day like today should have every booth full of happy patrons, enjoying the company of others, studying, working, eating and drinking. Today, it’s mainly used for transit. I try to shake the thought. Currently, I’m focused on only one thing — my destination. I’ve never jumped before and I’m not sure what to expect.

“Wait in line, I’ll be right back.”

Suddenly, left alone with my thoughts, I begin to reflect on how I got here and wonder why I’m now feeling a twinge of anxiety. Growing up impoverished requires one to approach new opportunities with a healthy amount of skepticism. It’s my nature to doubt the best possible outcome from the unknown, and, truly, things never seemed to work out for the kids who come from my neighbourhood. I think maybe that’s why I never tried jumping before. Sure, there’s the cost, and I’ve never had a lot of money. I’ve certainly had and passed on the opportunity many times, however, and listening to others tell stories — of their first, fifth, hundredth jump — it doesn’t take long before you get awfully jealous of the experiences you’re hearing about.

I wonder if I should have tried this sooner, and I can tell I’m not the only one in line who’s having this thought.

Three years ago is when the city first converged. A man — Gerald Somethingorother — vanished into thin air. Literally. He entered a building while a friend, John, waited outside. When Gerald opened the door to return, he took a step out and his body disappeared. John watched as the door closed softly over the empty entryway. If this had been just a few decades prior, there would have been panic among the public and talk of the apocalypse being upon us. There was fear, no doubt. John felt terrified. His friend had just disappeared and no one else seemed to be reacting. Had he imagined the whole thing? Was Gerald even real? John had to tell himself not to be stupid — of course Gerald was real. He tried to calm himself down but was too distressed.

Standing there alone, processing a wave of emotions, John wondered what happened to his friend. The skies today were overcast, but looking to the heavens he could see the clouds parting just enough for the sun to beam down directly on his face. Now, it felt as though he were standing in a spotlight. All eyes on John. Sounds that are recognizably *downtown core* — the cars, the chatter, the birds chirping, the people fighting — they all faded away as John stood there, scared and alone. He started to sweat. Suddenly, his phone rang. He would have missed the call if not for the startling volume of the ringer, and, looking down at the phone, he almost had a heart attack.

John answered the phone and heard a familiar voice on the line. To him, currently, after what he’d witnessed, it was the most beautiful voice in the world. It was Gerald’s voice.

A million questions raced through John’s mind. He didn’t know where to begin. It didn’t matter, though, as Gerald had plenty to say.

Not long after, government agencies arrived to investigate, and scientists arrived to research, but at that moment, outside the café in downtown Vancouver, it was just the two of them. Well, just John. Gerald had discovered the first gate. He was in Seattle.

“Oh shit.”

Several people turned to look. It was not my intention to be so loud, but I couldn’t help it as I recognize where I’m standing. This is the same café. This is where Gerald jumped for the first time. Suddenly, I’m feeling my own little connection to history. Excitement rolled over my body as the anxiety and doubt disappeared. I should make more of an effort to look around, I tell myself, and start to admire the space while I wait for the line to move.

The café looks so different now than it did in the pictures from that day. It’s no wonder I didn’t recognize it. What used to be a cute, modern spot for coffee and pastries now looks overly industrial and rundown. The vinyl records on the wall, once hand-selected by the staff and proudly displayed as conversation starters, are now covered in dust, untouched and unappreciated. The assortment of plants that used to hang from the ceiling, vibrant and adding an air of life to the interior, have disappeared, either removed or long dead. Music no longer plays over the speakers, and the only sounds I hear are the occasional spoon stirring a drink, or the light hum of background conversation as people wait to be on their way. It’s cold.

Shortly after the first gate appeared here, a handful more began popping up all over town. Slowly at first, maybe one every week or two, but within months they would start appearing in groups. The investigation and research that took place on this spot would move to each new gate. And when a new gate opened, when research followed and completed, the spot would remain forever changed. A new industry would be born. Vancouver had always been an international hub; ideally positioned for a major airport that connected to the eastern world, and a seaport that provided goods to the rest of the continent. Now, though, it would be connected to more places than previously imaginable. Vancouver became *the* international hub, connecting everyone with everywhere. Instantly.

In the early stages, despite the unlimited resources that were given to them, scientists struggled to uncover the significance. They would ask questions like *Why here?* or *Why did it bridge* these *two spots?* Seemingly random, every gate connected to a different location somewhere else in the world; a door at Cambie & Hastings connected to one in Manhattan, a door at Thurlow and Robson connected to one in London. It took some time, and some truly wild guesses, but now whenever a new gate appears we’re able to pinpoint its exact counterpoint around the globe. The solution was simple: Vancouver has spent so long dressed up as other cities — Washington in 1982s First Blood, Minnesota in 2007s Juno, Alaska in 2001s See Spot Run — that the city was converging with its fictional counterparts. An individual — *a passenger? user? customer?* — could walk through a door in Vancouver, and walk out *somewhere else*, in whatever city that that location had previously doubled for in a film or television show.

There were limits, of course. The other end of the gate had to be somewhere on Earth. Fantasy and science fiction destinations didn’t exist, at least not yet.

*Damn, that’d be way cooler.* I think to myself.

Going through a gate also presented zero choice to the jumper, obviously. The destination was the destination. And, most importantly, it was unidirectional. Once you arrived at the other end, you were there until you decide to come back using a more traditional method. Train, if possible, but more commonly by plane. Gates could connect vast distances, and because of the cost, it wasn’t practical for someone to jump to a place within walking or driving distance.

Now I’m feeling emotional as my brain registers the significance. I knew where I was standing, but now I *know* where I’m standing. This is *Gerald’s Gate*. It wasn’t intentional, choosing this café, we just wanted to visit Seattle and this was the closest gate to us.

“You look as if you’re about to cry,” says a voice over my shoulder.

It’s Harper, back from the restroom.

“Norman, I know this is a big deal for you,” she says.

Her blue eyes twinkle in the sunlight and look directly at my own. Harper and I have been together for a year and a half now, and she’s never had trouble understanding me, but despite never trying to conceal my emotions in front of her, I can’t help feeling a little embarrassed. I may be jumping for the first time, but Harper is well-experienced at this point. She was already travelling regularly for work before the convergence, and the addition of gates was a revolution in her industry.

“A little. This is the spot, you know,” I replied.

It required a concerted effort not to ask Harper any questions in the weeks leading up to our trip. As curious as I was about jumping, I wanted as much as possible for it to remain a mystery until we walked through that gate. Perhaps I was overemphasizing the significance, but, not unlike a child taking their first flight, this changes a person and opens the world up to them. That’s how I felt, at least, so I resisted asking any questions that could spoil the surprise for me.

The line shrinks as customers place their orders, collecting food or leaving to their destination.

“I’m glad we’re doing this,” I could feel the love in her words as she asks, “What are you most looking forward to?”

Harper was always quick to extend her kindness.

“Well,” I begin to reply.

She jumped in with a smirk, “Beyond the obvious.”

I didn’t have to search my mind very long for an answer, but we’re at the counter before I can say anything.

“Hey folks, staying or leaving?”

I appreciate that whoever is working the counter has to ask that question, no doubt a directive from management, because looking at the people in line you can say pretty confidently why each one is there. Those with bags — a backpack, a suitcase or two — were only there for travel. Their interest usually began and ended with the gate, and only occasionally would they order something to take along.

It’s early in the day, and we didn’t get much sleep last night, so I order a couple of coffees while Harper asks for a banana chocolate chip muffin to go with hers.

We move to the side and stand, waiting for our drinks to be poured. I have to rub my eyes to clear the fatigue, but now I’m watching as the barista works. Her heavily tattooed arms slowly and methodically pour steamed milk into the cup. She clearly has a passion for what she does. *This used to be an art-form.* Perhaps, to her, it still is. A couple of minutes pass before the barista is finished and calls my name. We grab our coffee from the counter, walk back to the gate, and are ready to make the jump.

I stop to take a breath.

“You,” I say, standing there beside Harper.

“What?”

“I’m most looking forward to a month alone, with you, free from work and distractions. No agenda except the one we set for ourselves.”

We smile at each other as I reach out. The warmth of her hand is comforting, and I increase my grip as we simultaneously take a step through the gate. Instantly, we’ve arrived in Seattle, and we’re standing outside a café identical to the one in Vancouver.

Except for the brief flash of light, it was no different from walking through a regular doorway. I didn’t feel a thing. I’ve just jumped for the first time!

Water is dripping down my face now as I look around to take in the new surroundings.

“Oh, fuck.”

It’s pouring rain in Seattle, and neither of us thought to bring an umbrella.

City of Doors

“What the fuck is that?” she thought to herself, no longer able to hide the look of terror on her face. The sounds continued to grow louder as they moved in and out of earshot. Howling and whipping and whistling sounding like it was right outside the door one moment, yet miles away the next.

“She still doesn’t know.” remarked a voice from behind her with a slight chuckle.

The voice was recognizable but still unsettling to hear, and stumbling back it became obvious that she hadn’t been able to keep her thoughts to herself this time. She turned around to see both of them now laughing with each other.

“No one knows what it is,” said the same voice “it just does… that… whenever it feels like. Random. Chaotic.”

The second one jumped in. “We’ve heard that it’s called ‘The Bastard’ but no one knows what it is, what it looks like, or even what it’s doing. No one has ever dared go out there to find out.”

She sat in a moment of stunned silence.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” she barked.

“I go out there every day. We’ve lived together long enough surely you’ve noticed by now.”

They just stared back at her, before the second one shrugged and rudely pointed out that they don’t really pay attention to what she does. Another minute passes as the sounds continue to roar and things begin lightly shaking.

“Tell us what it’s like out there!”

The pair of them appeared excited now, their eyes wide as they leaned in ready to learn even the smallest detail. They’ve never met anyone who had ventured out beyond the door, or maybe they have and couldn’t remember, or maybe they just didn’t care enough to realize that she’s been out there and back and could tell them everything they’ve always wanted to know.

The shaking intensified as the sound grew louder still. Scanning around the room you could tell it wouldn’t be long before things came crashing to the floor, but just as it seemed to reach a breaking point – everything stopped. Now there was nothing but complete silence in the room while the three of them looked around from face to face and began wondering what was going to happen next.

“Well?” they asked, still waiting for her to tell them.

After taking a moment to compose herself she tried to open her mouth and tell them what she knew about the place beyond the door, but just as she was about to speak, there it was again. The sounds were back. The shaking was back. This time everything was louder, it felt more violent, and it was seemingly closer than it ever had been before.

“It’s fiiiiine.”

They tried reassuring her, still curious and hoping to hear what she had to say but as the commotion continued to grow they found themselves naturally moving closer together in an attempt to comfort each other. Now it was obvious to her that their calm demeanor had all been an act, and their attempts to brush off the seriousness of the situation were simply a way to cope with the fear. Come to think of it, she didn’t even know if this was a situation or if it was particularly serious. After all, up to this point it had just been noise and lord knows she’d experienced noise in the past. This was different though and she knew it from the first moment she heard it.

The group sat in silence, listening as The Bastard continued to make its commotion. Whips, howls, whines, whistles. In and out, moving closing and further away. No one was comfortable but things were at least tolerable, if such a thing was possible, and finally it occurred to everyone that maybe it would be a wise idea to move further away from the door. They shared a look of understanding and moved together.

After reaching what eventually felt like a safe distance away from the door everyone sat down. This isn’t the first time they’ve been left alone in here but it might be the first time that she had felt accepted as part of the group, and sitting like little kids around the campfire it was finally time to tell a ghost story.

The only problem was that to her the story wasn’t scary. Sure she had been out beyond the door before, many times in fact, but she had never encountered anything even remotely resembling what they called The Bastard. To her it was just another place to be when she was lucky enough to visit.

She began to describe it to them as the ratting continued in the background.

She described the other sounds that exist out there – the occasional ding, the faint footsteps, the chatter from creatures that couldn’t be seen, all of which were tame in comparison and none of which seemed to satisfy the curiosity of the others.

“Come on,” they prodded. “there’s gotta be more than that!”

She went on to describe the smells – some of them were bad, some were good, some were irresistable.

“Okay okay but what do you see?” they asked.

“Well, nothing really. Normal stuff. You see other people, you see other creatures. But everything out there is just.. normal. For the most part the people you see are friendly or mind their own business.”

Now they just seemed disappointed, sharing a look with each other that went unnoticed to her. She had become distracted as a dreadful thought began settling in her mind: Can she ever head back out there? Never before had she been afraid to go out and explore, it was her nature and it brought her joy, but how could she work up the courage to head back out there now that she knew of The Bastard?

Everyone sat in silence as interest in the conversation began to fade away, and in unison they all came to the same thought – now would be a good time for a nap. The sounds and the shaking continued in the background but at a level that was easy to ignore, and it wasn’t long before they had all fallen asleep.

Suddenly though they were jolted awake. Now there was a new noise, only this one was… familiar. Common. A sort of “jingling” that they all recognized immediately and as it grew louder their faces whipped back around towards the door.

“Is that?” she said, unable to keep the excitement from her voice as her tail started to wag.

“I think it is!”

The jingling stopped and the three of them perked up in anticipation watching the door swing open.

“This goddamn wind is such a bastard!” he said while walking inside.

Their human had returned.

---

*Inspired by my dog, my two cats, and the wind – which is truly a bastard.*

The Bastard

Product Designer

Inspired by Vancouver, the chameleon city playing all others in tv and film.

Our team was tasked with designing and developing a suite of native enterprise apps that were powerful and reliable enough to be used by every level of the company, from engineers in the field to business analysts and executives in the office.

Enterprise Apps

We designed and built a prototype video editing app that could be used by influencers to drive social campaigns.

Fudos

Consulting with the Pinkbike team to design a mobile app for the buy & sell area of their user forums.

Pinkbike

How might we create an insightful way to surface quarterly reports and give Woo merchants something to look forward to?

Woo in Review

Ora wanted an MVP app that would build a foundation for delighting their subscribers for years to come.

Ora Organic

A menubar app for tracking your Github issues and pull requests.

Quests

Instant deposits were identified as an opportunity to scale adoption to more merchants and drive revenue for WooPayments.

Instant Deposits

What started as an exploration in adding micro-animations to interactive elements has revealed an opportunity to bring greater consistency across the Woo experience through refining the animations that are already in place.

Interactivity API & Loading

Rebranding two client apps under the same corporate umbrella, and building a design system for both apps to use across iOS and Android while ensuring they remain faithful to their individual target audiences.

CI Direct

WooPayments was operating at a competitive disadvantage by not offering tools necessary to sufficiently manage risk, contributing to placing financial strain on our merchants.

Fraud & Risk Tools

Branding and design systems for Hack Capital and their first product — CTO.ai.

Hack Capital <> CTO.ai

A fun side project that taught me SwiftUI.

Steamblog.md

Client and internal projects including productivity, social media, mobile gaming, fintech, and ecommerce.

Lead Mobile Designer

Enterprise solutions for a Fortune 500 client.

Mobile Designer

Focused on merchant tools and the post-processing experience for nearly 4 million merchants on WooCommerce.

Brady Valentino

Work Experience

Side Projects

Projects

Contact