I was down by the waterfront today, wandering through Vancouver’s lovely Downtown Eastside.
In case the neighborhood’s notoriety isn’t on your radar – we’re talkin’ skid row, here. Junkies, crackheads, and no shortage of plain ol’ drunks to be navigated around at any hour of the day.
After purposefully striding around/over several passed out folk in an effort to make a 2:00 interview, I glanced across the street at one of Vancouver’s most esteemed peeler bars: The No. 5 Orange, and was stopped in my tracks by their marquee sign.
I wasn’t sure if I should laugh my ass off or be filled with righteous indignation. I’m somewhere in between.