CHAPTER 2
“THE CRAWLING”
The trip continued and after a few odd stops and layovers later before getting halfway there. The sound of music blared through the bus as a fellow rude passenger was broadcasting songs off his cell phone, much to my annoyance. Sleep seemed to be evading me although not for the passenger in the seat beside me who's head rested on my arm. I cleared my throat a few times which woke him up. A few minutes later he nodded off again but this time slumping over into the isle between the seats. We were just arriving to another station but were told to stay on the bus so that other passengers could board. The bus filled up again then shortly thereafter we were told we would be continue the trip. We waited for the bus driver to return from his break. During that time a short Hispanic guy snuck on board the bus.
'We have a stowaway!' I thought to myself laughing. He was eventually caught at the next stop and was forced off the bus, but not before he argued with the driver and then played the 'I don't know English' game to no avail.
Through the mountains of Tennessee we drove, and pass the hills of Kentucky and down into the Ohio valley. Next stop was Cincinnati; my hometown. I briefly entertained the thought of sticking around but decided not to. During the layover I ate some bad bus station food and then chain smoked a few cigarettes. The last stop for me was another 5 hours away and I noticed already the weather was much cooler than the Florida heat I became accustomed to. Yet again, the bus was boarding and it was time to leave.
About an hour into leaving Cincinnati, I had started to go through withdraws. At this point, it had been a week since I had any opiates and I grew restless. My chest got tight and my arms tensed up I found myself making a fist and opening it back and forth. I would start sweating and then get cold chills and found myself swaying back and forth. At timed my nose would start running and eyes would well up while I suffered through it. 'Wow, this was horrible', I thought. I looked out the window amidst my struggle and saw snow falling, it was February and snow was no stranger to Ohio this time of year. All I had on was this brown leather jacket that my grandfather gave me that he got from Korea when he was stationed there years ago in the Army.
The bus steadily moved on, I could now see the skyline of the city come into view and I noted it was not nearly as big as the skyline of Cincinnati. The city was rather small with only a few medium sized skyscrapers. My withdraws had reached a zenith as a belly ache and nausea set in. I felt like I had to puke, but I was so close to getting there I tried to hold it in. Shortly after I couldn't hold it in any longer and spontaneously vomited all over my jeans I was wearing. I looked around me embarrassed and no one seemed to notice or didn't want to make it known what they just witnessed. I scraped off the chunks into the pile onto the floor. My eyes were so watery and my nose was now dripping.
The bus pulled up to the station and docked. The station sat up on a small hilltop and was gray and looked sleek and modern. I waited to be the last off the bus and saw a group of taxi cabs to the right -much to my relief. I received my luggage and then proceeded to hail a taxi. A black man stuck his head out the window, I asked him if he knew any cheap motels in the area. He replied that he did but that I probably wouldn't like it there, I said I really didn't care. I threw my luggage in the trunk and off we went.
We arrived shortly to this motel I paid my fare and gave him a small tip as money was going to be pretty tight for me. I walked over to the window that said 'vacancy' in neon red and knocked. A small middle aged Indian man answered.
“Hello,” he said while adjusting his glasses and blinking. “Hi, how much is a room for a night?” I asked.
“$49.99,” he asserted with a heavy accent.
“Okay.. I will pay for 4 nights.” I replied while pulling out my wallet.
I then slid him my drivers license beneath the window separator and payed the cash. He provided a key after giving me a receipt and pointed to the room from behind the glass. I walked over, unlocked the door and walked in. It was a decent sized room that had a large bed with a red comforter that had a flower pattern on it and white painted cinder block walls. A Television encased in plexiglass was bolted down on a stand in front of the bed. A few dressers were there also, one on each side of the bed with a lamp on the right dresser. A dimly lit bathroom was at the end of the room next to a small closet. The place smelled really musty with cigarette smoke and only 'God knows what'. I put my luggage on the floor and sat in one of the wooden chairs that was furnished and took off my shoes. Glancing down, I noticed that I still had the hospital wrist band on from the day before. I fought with it and finally succeeded in tearing it off. I threw my jacket on the chair and crashed on the bed and almost immediately passed out.
I woke up the next day from constant tossing and turning. Several nightmares plagued me through the night and immediately the nausea had came back to me. I vomited a few times more and all over just felt so beat down and ruined. I experienced what would seem like phantom pains in my arms and legs that made me squirm and want to kick and scream. This came and went in the next few hours, each time becoming more intense with its return. It was now obvious that the withdraws were well underway.
There was a phone book in one of the dresser drawers where the phone was sitting on. I took the phone book out, browsed through and ripped out the pages of different companies I thought I might have a chance at getting hired at. I also tore out the map of the city, and found out where the local missions or homeless shelters were also writing those down. I really didn't have much money left after paying for the room for almost a week. I decided to call the mission that was about two miles away from the motel and see if they had any room left. I had heard somewhere that some shelters turn down people because there is no room left. When the day went on the withdraws still had its icy cold grip on me. I couldn't sit still and was constantly crying, sometimes hysterically for hours on end. Sweat would persist across my body and paleness beset me. There was cold for a period of time yet sweating then the next minute I would be burning up and sweating. It was a horrible strange feeling and I couldn't do anything about it but curl up in a ball and writhe in my despair. The thought crossed my mind a few times that maybe I could find the stuff out on the street, or find some heroin, which I had never tried before and just snort it to get my fix. There were stories that I had read, or heard, that some people have withdraws that are so bad they die from it. That thought scared me, but what scared me more was the thought of asking the wrong person and going to jail, or getting hooked on drugs again. I resolved not to go seek it out. Although I had created my own affliction; I am not going to feed it anymore. The creature once again hid his face.
The days passed by slowly and painfully, the withdraws remained until the last day then I felt like I shook it off. It was pretty rough and many tears were shed and a lot more vomiting ensued. I had problems keeping down any food I ordered, and severe digestive issues. I will never forget the severe mental anguish, hysteria and the hell on earth that I endured. I am glad to say I made it through it all and survived.
∞
The time was close for me to leave this place and go to the Mission. I still had about a hundred or so dollars and decided to rather have some pocket money and begin the inevitable stay at the shelter, than spend it a day or two more at the motel and still be in the same position. I decided to ditch the rolling suitcase I arrived with, I wasn't exactly going to be staying at the Hilton, and stuffed my clothes in a duffle bag instead. Not everything would fit so I had to decide what clothes I wanted to keep in it and left the rest along with the rolling suitcase in the Motel.
Checkout time came so I returned the key to the motel owner. It was a straight trip to the mission from there, on the same street the Motel was on but only a few miles down the road. It was lightly snowing and there was some light traffic on the road beside me as I walked down the sidewalk. There were many storefronts from businesses long gone with 'for sale' signs posted. The area looked to be in a mild economic depression. About 45 minutes later of walking, I saw the building that was the Mission I had called. It was red bricked and had a parking lot with another building behind it. There were many people outside standing with winter coats on by small concrete pillars that served as ash trays. I could see some were sharing cigarettes among each other. There were a few white people but most others were black. Right there reality set in and I wasn't exactly thrilled to begin my new life here, but it was my only option. I sighed, then walked across the street over to the building and then on through the glass front doors.
I walked a few steps around while waiting to talk to the person at the front desk. Off to the right there were chairs that sat in front of a small Television on a stand, about enough to seat 50 people, some already filled by those watching Television. I walked up to the front desk and noticed an old white man with a neatly trimmed mustache and short gray hair sat at a computer. Another man, who was a bit overweight and Hispanic, sat beside him and was watching the other people that were sitting down. This man's poise and demeanor portrayed a strange, almost hateful sense of authority. His beady eyes pierced the room through his glasses. The man with a mustache was on the phone and after a moment or two concluded his conversation and hung the phone up.
“Can I help you..?” he asked.
“Uh, yeah I am homeless I called the other day and someone said you still had room.” I answered.
“Yes we do, but were not running a hotel here kid. I'm gonna need to see identification and we will put you into the computer.” he stated quite coldly.
I handed him my drivers license and told him what my social security number was and after a few minutes of him typing onto the computer screen he paused.
“Your bunk number is B-25 write it down and don't forget what it is. Dinner will be at 6 pm you will have to sit through the Church service first in order to get fed. If you leave and don't return by 6 pm the doors will be locked. We are a Christian run shelter there will be no drugs or weapons or intoxication permitted here. Do you understand?” The man said sternly.
“Yes.” I replied.
I took my duffle bag that was full of my only worldly possessions and walked over and sat down in a chair. Looking behind me I noticed a room in the back that had clear glass windows and a clear glass door with people packed inside of it. The room was filled with dense cigarette smoke and people were sitting or standing around. Looking in front of me, off to the right of the television, there were two people playing checkers on the counter top below where a few cabinets were. A lot of people were standing against the wall to near the entrance to the Mission and occasionally I could hear the Hispanic guy yell at them and tell them not to lean on the wall. After a bit of muttering and curses under their breaths, they obliged. There was some old time movie playing so I just decided to stay there seated and watch it until dinner which was only a few hours away. The sound of constant chatter and the doors opening and closing filled the room. I sat there and tried to tune out all of the noise that had constantly now plagued my mind. A new movie was now coming on and was some sort of old western which some of those that sat near me were laughing at the fact and quoted some of the lines from the movie. I
sunk in my chair at the thought that even though some these people had nothing, they were still somehow content with their lives.
Turning around I noticed there was a line steadily forming up against the wall that led to a door that was situated on the right side of the room. Taking heed, I got in line also. Just about everyone had their full winter gear still on: coats, hats and more frequently -toboggans. There was this tall bald black guy there who was talking about waiting to ship out to 'Boot Camp' for the Army. These two old white men, one with an old camouflage jacket, another with a generic insulated blue nylon, were talking about some place they called 'the bologna house'. I was not in the least bit curious about that place and thought it silly to be the subject of what sounded like a serious conversation by their tone.
The line finished growing then at the beginning of the line the door opened and we all walked out onto the parking lot into the adjacent building. The line stretched out the door and one by one we waited to walk inside. Inside there was a short mustached man in a dress shirt, standing at a single podium. He was asking for people's social security number and was searching through some pages on a clipboard. As each person told him their name and social security number, he would mark the sheet. It struck me as odd that they would go to this length but nonetheless I obliged. Half the seats were filled by now so I chose a seat in one of the chairs in the front row. The front of the room had a platform that had another podium, presumably for the preacher. It was pretty evident that a curtain divided a large room and that this half held Church service.
Eventually everyone finished registering on the list and all sat down. A well dressed short rounded man with a Bible came up to the podium and barked at everyone to be quiet. The Preacher had us all bow our heads in a minute or two of silent prayer. The service then went on for about an hour or so to my amazement, I didn't think it would last that long. It was curious that there was a clock on the wall above where the Preacher was talking, almost like school; which was a reminder to how drawn out this all was.
I believed in God but this all didn't feel like it was how he wanted things and the preacher seemed very disingenuous. The service seemed cold, mundane and completely lacked any emotion. I began to sense there was no empathy from these people for the poor. Finally it was over and they dismissed us at the conclusion of the service but did so by rows of seats. A new line formed that led out past the curtain which divided the room and into the next. About ten minutes later my row was called and made it through the line, past the curtain and into a cafeteria. There were volunteers serving trays that people picked up on the table before sliding their trays across the stainless steel serving area. After thanking them, I took my tray of food and sat down at one of the many picnic style tables. The meal comprised of a few pieces of ham followed by some bread and a side of mixed vegetables. There was also a pitcher of juice every few seats and bowls with packaged single serve butter. We all had to sit down in the order of what the line was, and once one side of the long table filled up then they direct us to start filling up the next. The men were separated from the women in dining, in quarters, and the women were served first. I noticed again how everyone kept their winter coats and hats on everywhere around. There were strangers all around me, some trading food, others talking and a few that were very hungry who ate like wild animals. There was a door leading out the building which a few were walking out already some with stuffed pockets. I recall a certain conversation that I heard by a few that sat around me. The two old men I saw earlier were talking.
“Hey did you hear about Bobby?” the old Veteran wearing camouflage asked.
“No.. what happened?” asked his apparent friend.
“Well you know how the mission didn't have any room for him a month ago?” the old Veteran asked raising his white bushy eyebrows.
“Yeah.. I remember that..” the other responded while stroking his beard.
“Well I heard the police found him in a dumpster this morning, the poor bastard froze to death.” the old Veteran lamented while looking down.
“Damn.” the other said shaking his head.
I thought about that for a minute. It was grievous to hear and drew attention to how vulnerable someone can be out in the streets. Being deprived of one of the basic staples of life: shelter; can be deadly. I imagined in my head what it would be like curling up in a dumpster and covering myself with garbage bags in an attempt to keep warm. It was a very dark and depressing thought and soon I finished my meal and went out the side door after returning my tray. I didn't really know what to do so I just went along with the flow of people leaving. We walked out into a parking lot towards the other building where people were outside smoking. I lit up a cigarette from the pack that I still had and immediately was hit up for one by a few people. I gave them each a cigarette.
One of them, a short white man about early forties with a long goatee, started talking to me.
“Thanks for the smoke,” he thanked in appreciation lifting the end up.
“What's your name?” he quickly inquired.
I took a drag off of my cigarette and paused for a moment, normally I was the type who wouldn't really engage in a conversation with a stranger but under my current circumstance, I thought it would be wise to try and make a few friends if I were to hope to survive living there.
“I'm Stefan, whats yours?” I asked. “I'm Don but you can just call me Chewy.” he entreated with a southern accent.
“Chewy? I am from Cincinnati but was living with family in Florida for about a year.” I revealed with surprise that he was up from the south too.
“Yeah, I am from Georgia. I can't leave this area because I am on parole. So I'm stuck here for awhile.” he laughed.
“Damn that sucks,” I replied warily, wondering what he was on parole for.
“Yeah, this is Brendan, he is one of my friends.” Chewy said pointing to the other guy that asked me for a cigarette.
“Hows it going man?” I asked
“Oh, I'm doing okay thanks for the cig' man.” Brendan mumbled hoarsely with a nod.
He was skinny and a few inches shy of my height but was taller than Chewy who was a little stocky and oddly wearing shorts with thermal leggings visible underneath. Brendan had short brown hair and he had a gaze that indicated he was a stoner or just a little bit too much out there. He pretty much seemed harmless at the time. Chewy smiled a lot when he talked and I could sense that he was a decent person just was maybe dealt a bad hand in the game of life. Other people were walking inside but I had a few drags left on my cigarette and waited a minute before going in. It was cold out there and I was shivering. Florida had been warm and it would take some time for me to adjust to the Ohio climate again. A man who worked for the mission came out the door and said we needed to go inside in a few minutes so I finished my cigarette and walked in. There was another line of people that were walking into this room on the left. They were walking into the room on the right, then came out with towels in their hand and what looked like pajama bottoms. My turn came and I was told to put my duffel bag in the room on the left for safe keeping. The workers then handed me a towel and a small piece of soap. I walked into the shower room which had a large mirror with multiple sinks on each side. There were about 12 different shower heads with small dividers that didn't allow any privacy. You could see many guys, old and young showering and completely naked. I really didn't like that and wasn't used to that sort of thing. The workers that worked at the mission had two people walking around telling people to hurry up so I obliged. I took off all my clothes except my boxers and set them on the bench and put the towel by the floor of the shower I was in. A tall skinny black guy who was completely naked was looking at me and said “damn baby” to my disgust.
I finished my shower so quickly that I probably still had a lot of soap all over me still but I didn't care. It was very embarrassing and uncomfortable to be around other guys who may be watching me. Got the pajama bottoms on, then put on my shirt and carried my pants and shoes with me back to the storage room. I put them in my duffle bag, while glancing over my shoulder. I remembered my bed number and walked into room B. It was a large room with many bunk beds where I soon found my bed. I lay down and pulled the wool blanket over my head to block out the light that came through the room from the hallway. People in the room were talking among themselves, some even cracking jokes and laughing. I managed to fall asleep despite the guy who snored very loudly up above me.
Woke up early the next morning by one of the mission workers turning on the light and telling us it was time for breakfast. I immediately got up and walked out into the hall then into the changing room to put my clothes back on from the night before. Further down the hallway people were gradually walking back to the main room where the television and the front desk was. Already the smoking room was packed full of people and was starting to cloud up thickly with smoke. I walked in and lit a cigarette. A person asked me for a smoke and I looked into my pack and could only see I had a few left but for the sake of conversation I gave him one.
“Hey.. do you know any places that might be hiring around here?” I asked.
Someone in the room laughed.
“Thanks, and not really; that's mostly why I'm in here. Can't find a job,” he paused to light the cigarette.
“that guy over there
works at some fast food place. The mission makes him give them money to hold back so he can get his own place after a while.”
A little discouraged I looked down for a moment.
“Eh, I will find some work somewhere.” I muttered under my breath.
Another line was forming for what I assumed was for breakfast, so I finished my cigarette, then someone actually asked to get the last hit off it. Surprised, I gave the remnants to him. I stood in line and there was about a ten minute wait then eventually the door opened. We all walked outside and down over to the other building. There was no church, or 'service', as they called it in the morning. I was glad to skip the formal 'room full of blank stares', so we went straight off to the cafeteria.
Breakfast was a little box of cereal, a small carton of milk and there was pitchers of coffee this time instead of juice. I didn't want the cereal and asked if anyone else did, gave it away but settled for the coffee. I decided to just walk back outside toward the other building and smoke my last cigarette. I walked over and saw Chewy sitting by himself smoking a cheap filtered cigar. Now that it was brighter outside I could see his rough features. The years hadn't been too kind to him.
“Good morning.” I said to him as I lit my cigarette with one hand and held coffee with the other.
“Morning” he replied.
“Hey is there a gas station or something nearby? I don't know the area too well yet.” I inquired while sipping on my coffee.
“Yeah, one just a few blocks on this road that way,” he pointed off behind me.
“Want to get a beer?” he then suggested with a grin.
“No.. I gave up on drugs and alcohol and I'm not old enough I'm only 18.” I replied.
“Can you buy me one? I will pay you back tomorrow, I am supposed to get some money then.” he begged.
I thought for a moment and decided it would be okay. I still had little over a hundred dollars, 'Whats a two dollar beer gonna hurt?' I mused. So we then walked over to the store, I bought a pack of cheap cigarettes and gave him two dollars for a beer. He said he had a spot where he could drink and not too many would notice or care. So we walked down to a bridge that was over some railroad tracks and surrounded by trees. We sat there underneath the bridge and were both smoking cigarettes while Chewy was drinking his forty ounces of beer. I turned to him and decided it would be wise to get some information about the town, jobs and resources while he was happy with his beer.
“Hey so.. what do you guys do all day?” I asked.
“You see it,” he replied laughing.
“Well, alot of us go to the library until lunch time because the mission locks us out of the building after breakfast.” he countered.
“Where is the library at?” I asked.
“I will take you there if you want, they have computers there but they don't open until 8 am so we still have about another hour.” He replied then taking another swig.
“Okay, thanks I appreciate it man” I thanked with a nod.
Sitting down under a bridge in the early morning the cool breeze seemed to pass right through me. The sun was breaking across the sky as it rose slowly over the horizon. Small glowing peaks burst through the treeline and seemed to hug the sides of the buildings which were like towering heaps defacing the revealing of a new day. Chewy was content with his beer and just sat there staring off while casually smoking a cigarette. Regretfully, my leather jacket didn't keep me as warm as I would have liked but it was all I had at the time. The bridge showed no mercy for blocking out the wind, I started to shiver while the gathered icy wind gave it's bite. A train was heard in the distance, its thunderous roar increased upon nearing. I stuck my hands in my pockets to keep warm while waiting patiently for the time to pass on.
It occurred to me that if I could get to a computer then I could look for jobs online and then email Anna and let her know that I came up here. My reasoning was that we sometimes had got into arguments but we always started talking again. A part of me was very confident that I could get her back again if I had just apologized for hurting her feelings. The last time we talked, I found out that she had got a boyfriend but I wasn't deterred by that. I knew her for a long time and knew that somehow someway, it would all work out. I remembered all the times that I wrote songs and how she would listen at my vain attempts at singing. I laughed to myself, she said my guitar playing was relaxing and would listen to the CD of my recordings I sent, before she would fall asleep. It made me smile to think of the fun I had talking to her. To me she was unique and one of a kind. She really was something special.
The train had already passed and Chewy finished the last sip of his beer. We decided it was about time to head to the Library. We walked up through the small field that was by the tracks and onto the sidewalk. Down the street and into the center of town, turned left and there was the large glass windowed building that housed the Library. Also there was another building across the street from it with many clear windows. Into the library I walked and followed Chewy over to where the computers were. There was a 'sign in' sheet you had to use to get onto the computers. If you didn't have a library card a staff member would sign you in so you could use a computer. A few short clicks later I got online, went straight to my email and sent Anna an email. I told her I was up in town and that I was sincerely sorry and that I had changed. I also said that I am trying to find a job and that I wanted to make it up to her and finally meet her and see if we were right for each other. Then after the email was sent I searched for the different welding places and wrote down a list of addresses, also wrote down the different employment agencies. I did have a resume that I had from a year ago which I wrote my new cell number in and then sent it off to many jobs that were available on the site. The timer was ticking on my computer and was almost done so I had to get off of it soon.
Chewy was getting off his computer so I decided to get off mine and see if my new friend wanted to walk around to a few different places with me. I needed to get a plan together on what I was going to do about getting a job; my money I had left would only last me so long and then I would be broke and out of luck.
“Hey man want to go with me to a few places?” I asked.
“Yeah sure.” he replied.
We stopped in at a few different restaurants and I filled out applications for a few hours. For the first time ever I didn't have an address to put down on the application, so put down the address of the mission. Chewy had asked me if I was getting any food stamps and I said no, he then told me the place where I could get them and said that if I told them about me being homeless they would give me them the next day or two. I went to the office and filled out the paperwork and then we headed back to the mission as we weren't allowed on the computers at the library because our allotted time ran out. I then asked him about what the bologna house was that I overheard a few people talking about and he told me that it was what they called the Catholic church that was down the street that handed out bologna sandwiches and an orange or an apple in a brown bag and a cup of juice each day. He also told me about the salvation army and where it was at and the stuff like socks or toiletries you could get from them but it was a few miles away and past the motel I stayed at. They served only lunch everyday but he said it was better than the mission's food and the only reason he wouldn't go there is because it was too far for the cold weather. It turned out that there were a few different Churches that would serve a meal different times each month or from time to time. But most would make you sit through a Church service first before feeding you, which many didn't like but beggars couldn't be choosers as they say. The thought that there were a few different places to eat in town was comforting to me. I just might make it after all I thought.