My Main Street is in Vancouver Canada.

Vancouver is considered a beautiful city, surrounded by mountains, the choppy waters of the Burrard Inlet and English Bay.

But; this is not a travel advisory; it is a short incursion into the night; the night on Main Street.

Years of martial arts and first aid training contribute to why I walk confidently into situations that the ordinary citizen is wise to avoid.

The shop windows and the street lights are having difficulty dispersing the damp October blackness.

Earlier a young man was passed out here, a syringe still stuck in his arm. Now some other guy has taken his place. I stop to check his pulse. I am bent over his body just as a police car goes by. The car does a “U” turn on Main, over the curb coming to a stop a few feet away. Between the officers’ flashlights and the car lights I am blind.

The additional light provided by the officers reveals a middle aged aboriginal man. At the very least “Derrick” has lost a fight, there’s a lot of blood and his face is swollen. One of the officers calls for an ambulance.

After producing identification and explaining my involvement, the officers take charge, and I am on my way.

Further down Main is the Canadian National train station. There is a small park between the station and the street. In the poor light I can just make out an odd looking figure. The lights of the cars crossing the intersection make the figure shift in and out of focus. Something is wrong with this picture.

I do the quick walk down the street. I easily overtake the person.

A young girl her coat open, her clothes are twisted and crooked a gooey substance glistens on her face in the half light.

This person needs medical help, and the Police.

I convince her to come with me to a hotel that’s just down the block.

Now it gets interesting.

I leave her standing in the lobby of this rundown hotel/bar. Stepping into the beverage room I ask the bartender to call the cops.

Then we wait. Then we wait some more. Finally the doors open to two of Vancouver’s finest; a male and a female.

Did I say it got interesting before?

First the officers do an identification check on both of us. This is perfectly understandable under the circumstances. Now they are doing a warrants check on me. They have kept us apart while asking innumerable questions.

I see myself in the lobby mirror. A six foot man, in a black leather jacket, faded jeans, and sporting the Harley Davidson wings.

The female officer approaches me; each step she takes, I feel more and more apprehensive.

According to the officer; they were going to take me into custody; however; the victim was able to convey to the officers that I was not involved in her ordeal.

The mother is prostituting this sad little girl.

I am free to go. The police will follow up on this sordid affair.

I step back onto Main Street. It’s raining now, and somehow the night appears darker and more menacing.