After completing the West Coast Trail, I spent a couple of days relaxing in Victoria. The weather was perfect. Then, I caught the ferry back to Vancouver where I shared a dingy hostel room with a very interesting Canadian from the East Coast. He had taken a Greyhound across country and been kicked off for fighting. His bags never made it to his destination. He, too, had stories of East Hastings Street, but despite his feigned distaste, it was clear he was intrigued by the place. Within the few hours we shared the room, he got sloppy drunk, snorted Oxycontin, begged me for a pair of socks, disappeared to go hire a prostitute, and collapsed on the bed after 3:00 A.M. His plan was to look for a job "first thing in the morning." Somehow, I don’t think he made it. Shortly afterwards, I walked a block to the bus station. As the Sun rose, Greyhound drove me to Seattle. I slept more soundly on the bus than in the hostel. The final 36 hours were spent on an Amtrak train riding the Coast Starlight route back to Los Angeles. It was an interesting experience also punctuated with the rap stylings of a soused Canadian.