When the humidity finally woke me up in the hostel, it was around 11am (I had to ask scary hostel-buddy #1, since I didn’t have a watch anymore at this point). I felt a little hungover, but nothing compared to the morning before back in YVR. I thought about showering, but my I-need-to-get-the-hell-out-of-the-hostel-as-soon-as-possible thought process eventually won. I strolled down the street in New York City, smiling as I walked into Ray’s Pizza, knowing full well I was about to destroy his little toilet in the back-room with my post-hangover blues. I read through my Lonely Planet for a few ...