Memories of a Street Rat - 4. No Shelter

When rain is falling, snow is blowing, or any other assortment of inclement weathing is making itself known, most people simply go indoors to avoid it. For many people, they do no have that option. Instead they search to find anywhere that offers even the slimmest amount of shelter to stay dry. Sometimes it is in a doorway, under a bridge, or inside a cardboard box. Hell, I’ve even hunkered down under a truck that had not moved in a sometime. An abandon car will do just as nicely. You get use to it I suppose. The sound of raindrops not shielded by a building can be relaxing and lull you to sleep. When it is hitting your face and your clothes are soaked, it is just annoying.

I had my little spot inside a clump of bushes along the banks of the James River. It became my home and to some degree my safe spot when I got to Richmond. The sound of the water was soothing to me. No one could easily approach my spot without making some kind of noise. On the rare occasion when someone did try to enter my space, I had at least a little warning. I could not be seen through the brush from the park side, so the police never noticed me when they would occasionally try to remove the homeless from the area. The drawback to my little home by the river is that my only cover from the elements was the bushes, a ball cap and my jacket. I had to abandon it several times in my two years on the streets due to the river rising, but the majority of times I left was to find someplace with shelter so I could try and keep dry for a night or two until the rain would stop.

The first winter on the streets was hard since I had no experience in what to do. I tried to find places to keep dry during the bad weather, but it takes time to learn where is marginally safe and where is dangerous. As long as my clothes were not soaked, I could find some way retaining a little warmth. Once my clothes were drenched though, there was no way of getting warm until they dried. If I was lucky, I had something dry in my backpack I could change into. Since I am on the small side, I could hide in spaces most people either would not check or try to claim for themselves. My size is probably the only thing that helped me get away with sleeping around the Jefferson Hotel when I did. I could hide where adults would have been found. Fortunately, the staff and security never noticed me around the kitchen dumpster. The exhaust vent in the dumpster’s enclosure felt like heaven on cold nights. I would curl up next to it when whatever piece of equipment it was connected to was running.

Even though I was sort of welcome by the other homeless people living near the river, it was mostly due to me claiming a spot no one else wanted or could use. Other places I risked trespassing on someone else’s territory without knowing it. I first thought it would not matter where I tried to sleep, but it did not take me long to figure out how territorial things could get on the streets. There might be several places to find cover from the weather. However, one person might claim them all since they are close together and will not allow anyone else nearby. Getting food out of a dumpster could be the same way if someone claimed it as they own and some people would fiercely defend what they considered theirs. When you have virtually nothing, you sometimes fight to keep what little you have. I got into a few fights early on until I learned how things worked. Hell, I got into a few fights over dumpsters and places to sleep even in my second year as I tried to find places to stay or eat if I had not had any tricks for a few days.

In the early months it felt like I could not catch a break on anything I did beyond originally finding my spot at the river. Starting out in autumn was one more hit against me. I did not have the benefit of summer weather to learn how to live on my own. I know I turned down a chance at having a home with the two men who wanted me to stay with them, but it was too soon after what my parents did. There was no way I could trust anyone at that point. When I would try to show some trust, someone would inevitably do something to take it all away. Between Thanksgiving and Christmas, I did try to find places I could stay dry. The area near the Jefferson’s kitchen dumpster was one of the best. If there was too much activity and I thought there was too much risk of being found, I would try to find someplace else for a night or two. But the food from parties that was getting tossed made it a great place to eat and sleep.

The first time I got chased away by another homeless man it was difficult; it hurt emotionally. There was a cold rain falling. I had finally found someplace that offered me a little shelter and seemed marginally safe. It was in an alley behind some businesses. There was a doorway that had a cover that stuck out just far enough if I huddled up against the door, I could stay out of the rain. This was provided the wind did not change direction and blow the rain onto me. I knew there was someone several doors down from where I had stopped. Whoever it was could not be seen under the tarp they had setup. There was a shopping cart and a few other objects helping to support the tarp strung up between two dumpsters. I sat there quietly wishing the rain would stop as I leaned against the door frame with my knees pulled up tight against my chest.

It turned out to be a guy that was under the tarp. He came out of his shelter to relieve himself in the alley and once he finished he saw me sitting there. Almost immediately he screamed at me that this was his alley. In the dim light I could see him pick up what looked like either a board or pipe from the shopping cart. Whatever it was, he was brandishing as a weapon. As he continued yelling at me about the alley being his he also started shouting that all the dumpsters around there belonged to him. He warned he would beat the shit out of me if he found that I had gone through any.

I stood so I could run if needed when he began to move towards me. He raised the object in one hand. As he got a little closer I could see it was a length of pipe. I had been slowly backing away from him making sure not to turn my back. He changed his grasp on the pipe so he had both hands like you would a bat you are going to use on someone. When I got to a point I felt I could get away easy enough, I turned and ran. It was not worth trying to fight with him to stay dry in the doorway I had found.

By the time I found someplace else to get out of the rain, I was soaked and cold. It was another doorway in another alley much like the last one. I walked from one end of it to the other and did not see anyone. I changed into some clothes that were somewhat dryer, rang the water out of what I had been wearing and put them into my pack. I put my jacket back on and tried to hold myself as tight as possible to generate any heat I could, not that it worked much.

My mind kept going back to the violent reaction from the guy in the alley. What I focused on the most was that I was being told I was not wanted. It mentally reinforced what I already thought about people, that no one really wanted me around. This was the first time I had a violent confrontation with another homeless person and even he did not want me around when I was not bothering him or making any noise. I was not even all that close to the doorway he had setup in. The guys at the park kind of kept an eye on me and were friendly, but even there my hiding spot was well away from them and in an area they did not fit. Getting yelled at fed into my building belief that truly no one wanted me around.

I probably dozed off for an hour or two in the second doorway before I heard someone approaching. I hoped the shadows would keep me hidden from whoever it was but as they got close, a flashlight was shined on me. With a disinterested tone to his voice he told me, “Kid, you can’t be sleeping here. Go home or go find somewhere else to be.”

I told him I just wanted to stay dry and get a little sleep, but he would not have it. I offered to blow him in exchange for letting me sleep another couple hours. He accepted the offer and pulled out what he had. I got to work and he enjoyed himself calling me every name he could think. As soon as he zipped up, he told me to get lost or he would call the cops. I got up and headed back out into the rain. I finally found a cardboard box just big enough for me to fit in a few blocks away that was sitting next to a dumpster. At that point I didn’t care as long as I was out of the rain. the building and wind direction had shielded the box from getting much water on it. The cardboard was firm enough I could get inside without it falling apart. It was not comfortable, but it kept the rain off my head for a little while. I felt like a lost puppy as I sat there. I did manage to sleep for a little while, but only due to exhaustion. By the time I emerged from the box in the early morning, a layer of ice had formed on it. The crunching sound of frozen material was evident each time I moved my legs. Wet clothes on a cold night suck. Frozen clothes in the morning is worse.

Winter was the hardest time to be living outside. I could not get warm and that always led to me getting sick. I would end up huddled up anywhere I could find as I shivered constantly from both the cold and from the current fever I had. My second winter was a little easier since I knew what to expect; and how to cope. I still got chased off by other homeless as well as getting into a few fights if I was fed up and refused to back down over a little dry spot. With security guards, it all depended on how diligent they were. Some could not care less as long as I was not causing a problem, or if I provided something they wanted in exchange for ignoring me. Alleviating their boredom and providing my services was the cost of a place to sleep sometimes. I also found a few people I could spend a night or two with if the weather got really bad. It was no different than the guards I serviced, but I at least got to sleep indoors for a change. I was afraid of attachment, so I never stayed too many nights. My last resort was finding a trick to take me to a hotel in the hopes of being able to use the room for the night. I never got any sleep in those situations though, for fear of what they might do. I liked the ones that left after sex and let me stay.

After one bad fight with a guy who thought I was invading his territory, I limped off to try and deal with my injuries. I was exhausted and slept a little deeper than I normally would in a new spot. I did not hear him approach until something hit me and woke to a blinding pain running through my head before the second hit came to my side. The third hit was to the arm that I had raised to protect my head. He shouted how he was going to kill me for invading his space. He was one of the more crazed guys I had run across. I just managed to get him off me before I ran. It had already been a bad week and I was ready to give up. Getting roughed up by a trick, while unwelcome, was easy to deal with, but I could not handle being told one more time I was not wanted and that I had to leave. Somehow it was different from how my tricks treated me. I knew how things were on the street and how territorial they can be. All I wanted was to be left alone and allowed the slimmest amount of shelter to sleep in.

I found one of the dealers I knew. We had seen each other on the streets often enough to know the others business. He sometimes sent tricks my way and I would occasionally send my clients to him.

“What the fuck happened to you?” He grabbed a cloth out of his bag and pressed it to the side of my head.

I reached up feeling the pain from the light pressure and took the cloth from him. Pulling it away, I did not realize I was bleeding. “Thought that was from the rain running down my face. Some guy didn’t like me trying to sleep in his alley. Woke me with a pipe or something. I’m okay. Different day, same shit.”

“I hear ya. This weather sucks. No one’s buyin’. Only had two of my regulars come by so far.” He bitched.

“Know what you mean. No John’s out. Nobody wants to let me into their car soaked and alleys are no good tonight.”

“You ain’t no help. You never buy nothin’. Know you say you’re clean and all.” He laughed. “At least the company’s good and you send your John’s my way when they need somethin’.”

“Don’t recall you ever sampling my services.”

“You know I don’t swing that way. Tempted to try sometime when I can’t get my bitch to suck my dick.”

“Let me know. First one’s on the house for all the clients you’ve sent me.”

“Is that why you came around? Wanting some dark meat between your lips or chillin’ ‘til somethin’ comes along?”

I forced a laugh. It was our usual banter. Each offering our wares knowing the other would never accept. “Actually, got an invite to a party after getting hit. Only condition is I show up with some favors for a small group.”

“Dude, you never buy.”

“It’ll get me out of this fuckin’ rain for a night or two. I don’t care what it is as long as I’m flying high. Just want to block out all the bullshit of the day. Nothing that takes a needle. Too much hassle and I don’t feel like tracking down the other supplies.”

“You sure about this?

I nodded.

“I got somethin’ if you sure. Almost as good as heroin, but it’s a pill.” He pulled out a small bag with white tablets. “I’ll give you a discount. Send me some of your tricks and I’ll make the difference up from jacking up their prices.” He fixed his eyes on me. “Don’t take more than one. You’s one of the cool peeps out here and I know it ain’t yo’ thing. Shouldn’t sell you nothin’ with that head wound, but ain’t no one else around.”

We made the exchange and I walked away with a bag of pills.

I sat mid span of the pedestrian bridge that crossed the James near my home. The cold rain continued to fall on me and showed no signs of letting up. For the longest time, I stared at my purchase before popping one.

It is hard to describe how the pill made me feel since I had never used before. I guess flying is as good a description as any. A part of me wondered why I had never tried this before. Feeling like this might block out a lot when dealing with my tricks. It seemed like the sound of the rain changed. Watching the drops hit the water took on a different look. I began to feel warm all over. In the cold rain, feeling warm all of a sudden felt so good. I wanted to strip down and feel the rain on my skin to cool me down. I was quickly becoming overheated. I felt different than I ever had before and it was a good, yet weird feeling since this was new to me. Satisfied that whatever he sold me was legit, I popped the rest of them into my mouth and downed it with the last of my water. I hoped it was enough for a lethal dose.

Fortunately that many pills did not agree with me, possibly from the concussion I likely had due to my earlier encounter. The vomiting was not far behind once the queasy feeling started. The handful of pills got out of my stomach before getting into my system. I was a mess for a week as I recovered from my one attempt at suicide by O/Ding.

I still hate being outside in the rain, though I do tolerate it and sometimes have to be for work. I enjoy seeing it rain and watching snow fall is beautiful, as long as I can view it through a window. If I want to get wet I’ll find a way other than rain. My friends know I am an outdoorsy type of person, so to them it is puzzling that I refuse to go camping when asked. The ones that know something about my past think I should just get over it and that I will have fun. I just tell them I have done enough camping for a lifetime, but maybe someday.