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The drop was scheduled to take place at 6:30PM in Crab Park, a stretch of green on the edge of Gastown. I stared out the window at the crowds milling on the sidewalks in Vancouver’s downtown east side. It was home to our most marginalized citizens, many of them homeless, d**g addicted, or forced to turn to p**********n to survive. After passing one of the open “markets,” with the goods on offer set out on blankets on the grimy sidewalk or stuffed in trash bags and shopping carts, we hit the overpass leading to the waterfront park.
Chinese stone lions carved in intricate detail flanked each side of the road like sentinels. Beyond it, the Burrard Inlet winked blue in the sunlight.
Rohan parked my Honda, the more nondescript of our cars, in a small lot across from the park facing a stan
