Toronto

Ok, fact of the matter is, this hotel is a dump. But it’s a really nice dump. I know that sounds a bit contradictory, but believe me when I say it’s not contradictory at all. It actually makes perfect sense. You see, it’s a bit of a rundown building, but it is loaded with character.

When I hoboed over the years I’d usually try to find a very characterful derelict to live in. Often old train stations, believe it or not. They are often outrageously grand structures. So this place appealed to me. We were being cheap, so Jake and I both took beds in the “Hostel Room” for a total of $20 a person. It wasn’t a common travel season, so we were alone in there.

It sure was cheaper - and a lot more interesting - than staying at that Fairfield Inn. I’ve stayed in hostels before, but it’s not my usual game plan. Usually when I actually want to spend money to stay someplace, I’m willing to splurge the extra to get my privacy, if you know what I mean. There are cheaper heated places to stay than hostels, such as inside vestibules of buildings.

For you budding hobos: It is common for a business or office building or apartment to lock the inner door, from the vestibule to the lobby, but not lock the door from the vestibule to the outside. The vestibule is often heated. It is a warm place to stay. Just make sure you get the hell out of there before business hours start and somebody sees you.

That reminds me. There is such a thing as a hobo’s code of ethics. Not all of us follow it, but many of us do. It goes like this:

1. Decide your own life, don’t let another person run or rule you.

2. When in town, always respect the local law and officials, and try to be a gentleman at all times.

3. Don’t take advantage of someone who is in a vulnerable situation, locals or other hobos.

4. Always try to find work, even if temporary, and always seek out jobs nobody wants. By doing so you not only help a business along, but ensure employment should you return to that town again.

5. When no employment is available, make your own work by using your added talents at crafts.

6. Do not allow yourself to become a stupid drunk and set a bad example for local’s treatment of other hobos.

7. When staying in town, respect handouts, do not wear them out, another hobo will be coming along who will need them as bad, if not worse than you.

8. Always respect nature, do not leave garbage in places you are saying, and especially in communities of other hobos.

9. If in a community of hobos, always pitch in and help.

10. Try to stay clean, and clean yourself and your clothing wherever possible.

11. When traveling, ride your train respectfully, take no personal chances, cause no problems with the operating crew or host railroad, act like an extra crew member.

12. Do not cause problems in a train yard, another hobo will be coming along who will need passage through that yard.

13. Do not allow other hobos to molest children, expose to authorities all molesters, they are the worst garbage to infest any society.

14. Help all runaway children, and try to induce them to return home.

15. Help your fellow hobos whenever and wherever needed, you may need their help someday.

For the most part, I tried to follow those rules, too. Most good hobos follow most or all of them. We’re not bad people. We’re just transient- too transient to want the expense and overhead, not to mention complications, of a permanent and official residence.

As I mentioned before, there is a big difference between a hobo and a beggar. I don’t beg. If people offer to me, I take it. It is ok to accept human kindness. But, for example, if someone asks me to leave, I leave. I’m not going to make a nuisance of myself hoping to get a handout.

I am willing to work for money. I am willing to occasionally take money for food, which I will then spend on food. Some of us are drunks, and I will admit that. But we’re usually not alcoholics or druggies. Most of them are a lot more sedentary. I do not take straight out cash donations, even if they are offered to me. I only believe in taking cash if I earn it somehow.

Money is nothing to me. I mean, I know I need it for various things, and I accept that. I don’t mind spending money on things. Don’t mind making it. But I have a lot more attachment to things than I have to money. If I had a list of items I could save and the rest of them would be destroyed, money would be towards the end of the list.

The only things less to me are the things I have just bought and have no attachment to. Many of us feel the same way, I think. I mean, thats why we live in a transient environment where the accumulation of money and things is difficult. If that was important to us, we’d live differently.

It’s a lot easier to make money if you are sedentary. You get a reputation as a hard worker - and most of us are - and you can get a much better job.

Anyway, Jake and I got up and went to a cheap diner for breakfast. It was consummate with its price, as usual. We almost immediately started again down Interstate 40. I was a bit surprised that Jake didn’t take Historic 66, but he didn’t.

After we were riding for a little while, Jake asked, “So what happened next?”

“Well, we crossed the river...”

It was in the middle of the night, and I used the lights on the other side of the river to guide us. We got close to the other coast quickly and then I followed it around into Lake Erie. I didn’t want to be too close to the Peace Bridge, or in the river.

It’s not that it’s that hard to get into Canada undetected. It’s just that if we were, we could be up on murder charges. Whether we were acquitted or convicted was a moot point; we’d be finger printed, recorded, and our anonymity would be gone. So we wanted to ensure we did not bring unwanted interest or attention.

We pulled up to a section of the shore and got out of boat. We both regretted stealing it. We were hobos, not crooks. This was an emergency, as far as we were concerned. We took our things out of the boat, and then I stripped naked. I didn’t want to get my clothes all wet.

This was a pretty abandoned area, and it wasn’t that big a deal. I rowed the thing out about 500 feet, and then pulled the little plug out of the back of the boat and watched it start to flood. The water would likely destroy all the evidence of our using it by the time the boat was found ... if it wasn’t destroyed by a passing ship.

Then I jumped in and swam back to the shore. When I got back, Rachel was waiting there with a blanket and dried me off. I got dressed quickly and we looked around. As I hoped, this was a completely wooded area. We walked in about 300 feet until we could barely see either the road or the river.

I wasn’t hungry, and neither was she. We were both tired. It was still cold out, obviously. We laid down my wet blanket on the ground, and snuggled together under hers. Her bodily warmth and the feel of her was a reassurance. This woman loved me. I loved this woman. I knew that now.

It felt so safe, so nice, laying there besides her. Everything about her was special. Touch, texture, warmth, shape, even smell. She had scars, freckles, beauty marks. She had slightly crooked teeth. One of her eyes was a bit higher than the other. It was all special, all her. I liked how I could wrap my arm around her completely.

She would be a surprise to someone who attacked her. It was something demonstrated to me many times over the years we’ve been roaming this crazy world together. She was lanky in such a way she could make somebody confuse her for frail. She was not frail. She was strong, very quick, with excellent balance. She knew how to use her body. She could be so savage, it was almost scary.

The next morning we woke up before even the ass-crack of dawn and started planning what we were going to do. In our current situation, we could afford to stay in a really cheap motel for a while. We had accumulated about $2000 between us from the work at our previous job, plus what we previously had. It wasn’t much, but we both knew that staying in Toronto would be expensive and the place wasn’t known for its abandoned buildings- what it was known for was low hobo tolerance. Doubly so foreign hobos.

We found our bearings and started hoofing the 60+ mile walk to Hamilton. It was a long walk, but we followed maps and compasses. We walked out to the road and found we were right where I predicted we were, Dominion. SCORE!

We made a right onto Dominion and took that to Graham. We made a left on to Graham and then after a short walk, a right onto Argyle. That was followed by a left onto Albany. We had walked about half a mile when we got to Helena St, onto which we made a right.

Heading north, we followed it past the point it turned into Thompson a mile later. We then got to the Queen Elizabeth Way about half a mile after that. We followed the QEW for a long time, usually staying well away from the road. Actually we followed it for the rest of the day. By that time I estimated we had walked 40 miles on it. It was about eleven at night, but we were bushed.

We walked once again a little distance from the road and bedded down for the night. We had averaged about four miles per hour. I know you couldn’t do this, but we’re people who walk everywhere. We had the stamina of the the person who walks all over the world.

Rachel said it would be a bad idea to cook here, and I agreed. We wouldn’t want people to be aware of our presence through our cooking fire. Rachel took out that package that was marked “Halavah” and handed me what looked like two candy bars. It was written on in what appeared to be Hebrew.

“What is this?” I asked.

“It’s very nutritious and will give yuh plenty of energy, okay?” she insisted.

I unwrapped it and was staring at something that looked rather powdery. I took a bite. It was weird. It was both bitter and sweet at the same time. I took another bite. It seemed to dry out my mouth, and Rachel handed me a bottle of water. It slowly began to grow on me. Actually, over the years it would become a staple food item. It was small and relatively light, it contained a ton of energy, and never went bad.

“Ok, now answer my question!” I said, laughing. I was really curious.

“Basically, it is ground sunflowuh seeds mixed wit’ honey,” she told me.

“Well, it’s growing on me, kind of like you,” I told her.

“I’m growin’ on yuh?” she asked, “I still have a hard time believin’ yuh love me! Okay?”

“No, Rachel,” I told her, “I love you, and I can assure you I always will. Someday in the probably near future we will stop traveling together, I admit it...”

“Dat kinda goe-” she started.

“I wasn’t finished,” I interrupted, “But until then, I really am enjoying being with you. When we split up, I think we will get back together now and again and have some fun and enjoy each other’s company again. You are very special to me. I don’t want to lose you, ever.”

“Why can’t we stay togethuh from dis point fawhward, yuh know?” she asked.

I stared deep in her eyes. I loved her; she was my best friend at that point. I was looking to see what she was thinking. I was also trying to see how much conviction there was behind that statement. To this day I don’t know the answer to that question. It is painful to contemplate.

“Because we are primarily loners, Rache,” I told her, “You wouldn’t want to do this any more than I do, in the long run. Don’t worry, though, we’ll set up a system for meeting each other.”

There are days I wish I hadn’t set up that dynamic.

She sighed, “Yeah, Johnny, you’re right.”

We snuggled together and were quickly asleep. As I had mentioned before, we had just walked 43 fifteen-minute miles in a row. Trust me, we were ready to collapse!

We woke up even earlier than the day before and quickly packed up. Neither of us were hungry, so we didn’t eat. We resumed our trip walking along the Queen Elizabeth Way. There were cars, but the prospect for hitch hiking moves down with the exponential inverse of the population density. It is also a lot harder to do it if you are a couple or group. Truth be told, neither of us minded the walking.

We had another twelve miles to go on the QEW, and when we were done, we were already in Hamilton. We followed an exit ramp to the Red Hill Valley Parkway, and took that to Melvin Avenue, onto which we made a left. We were now walking through a residential and light commercial district.

That afternoon we finally got into Central Hamilton at which point we found out that GO Transit does not operate trains out of Hamilton past seven in the morning. Which struck me as ridiculous, but whatever. No government is ever friendly to the railroads, I have found. Especially not in North America.

We debated and ended up settling on going to a $30 room in the Days Inn. The Days Inn was just down the street, so it wasn’t a big deal. We got a Jacuzzi Suite for an extra $15. They wanted a credit card, so we offered them a $200 deposit. They took it and gave us a couple of room keys.

It wasn’t a great hotel, I admit, but it was acceptable and for the price it was fine. We walked together to the room and when we got inside she jumped when she saw it was one of the Jacuzzi rooms. I slowly began stripping her clothes off. In the well lit room her body glowed with fitness. Powerful muscles moved under the skin of those thin legs and arms, in that long and lanky torso.

“You’re fuckin’ crazy, yuh know dat?” she exclaimed, as I started licking the side of her neck and started moving down the front of her exquisite body.

“I might be,” I admitted, “But the fact of the matter is, we can’t do this often, and if we are going to do this, we might as well do this right.”

In the bright light of the room, with her glowing body, she was so much more beautiful. It showed some of the scarring down below, and it was nasty. But it was another part of her. I wish it wasn’t there. I wish it hadn’t happened to her. But it wasn’t ugliness; nothing about her could be. It had brought us here, together.

Still, I wish I knew the person who had did that to her. I’d kill them. How someone could go around and hurt another human being just for kicks and giggles was beyond me. I would love to return the favor of killing a person who hurt her.

“You know, if I ever found the person who did that to you,” I said, pointing to the scars, “I’d-”

“-Thank dem fawh givin’ us dis time togethuh,” she interrupted.

“You have a point, but I’d still kill them,” I told her.

“Dat would be hard,” she said.

“Why?” I asked her.

“Dere was a terrible accident. Somehow somethin’ went wrong wit’ de brakes on de SUV dey were drivin’. Yuh got me so fahr? I read about it in a newspapuh some years ago. Okay? I was tryin’ tuh track dem down so I could extract some revenge from dem. Yuh know what I’m sayin’?”

The look she gave me as she was telling me this was quite explanatory. I had this strong feeling I didn’t ever want to hurt her. I don’t think I’d survive that very long. Not that I’d ever want to.

“My only regret is dat I din’t do it,” she continued, “someone else did I guess. Okay? De bastards deserved it. Ya’ dig? I doan tink I was deir first or last. I doan know if yuh believe dis, but dat guy I killed a couple of days ago was de first. Yuh know?”

Her eyes got more mischievous. “Dyaenu wit’ de killin’, I just wanna spend a day wit’ yuh in dis room. Okay?”

She undid the straps on my overalls, yanked my shirt off, and pulled down my underwear. She put on the hotel robe, and walked all our clothes to the washing machine down the hall. It would be a good idea to do this while we had the options available. When she got back, she went to turn on the jacuzzi and I just picked her up in my arms.

“Honey, don’t take this the wrong way or anything, but we need to fucking shower. I don’t know how long its been for you, but it’s been three weeks for me!” I exclaimed.

We both laughed. We got into the shower together and lathered each other up and washed each other off. I let her handle her hair though. I mean, this thing looked like one solid mat. When she was done washing her hair, it must have been four inches longer! She cleaned up really nice.

Without the grime on her body, her body’s glow became a beacon. My Rachel...

By that point Rachel was already familiarizing herself with the way the jacuzzi worked and had created a fantastically bubble-filled environment. I got in with her and let her lean back against me, with my arms around her. We both sighed in contentment. It was an enjoyable place to just sit and we did that for a long time.

We got into a lot more after a time, and it ended up being an enjoyable evening. When we were both finished, we were both exhausted, drained, and just generally ready to collapse. I carried her, still sopping wet, over to the bed.

“I told yuh befawh dat it hurts tuh go furthuh than we just did,” she told me, “But I’d be willin’ tuh try if yuh wanna. I wanna and I don’t wanna. Yuh get what I’m sayin’?”

“Rachel, sweetheart, I get what you’re saying, and I couldn’t do that to you,” I told her, “It’s supposed to be about mutual pleasure, and that isn’t mutual pleasure, is it?”

“I guess not,” she said, “Thank yuh.”

“Besides, my beloved,” I said, with a smile, “I am completely worn out.”

I was. The orgasm I had from what we had done had drained me of any sexual desire at this point. I just wanted to lay next to her and share the great trust of sleeping together. For a hobo, in our life, there is nothing that shows more trust of another person as falling into a deep sleep beside them. In this room, with its lock, we were safe together. We could fall asleep. And we did.

I laid down next to her and fell asleep, practically instantly at about 10:45.

The alarm woke us up around 5:45. We were a tangle of limbs and bodies. It was definitely an enjoyable sensation to wake up like that. It was full of love and caring, and for a few moments we just lay there savoring the positive aspects of being together.

Then we got dressed, packed our stuff, and went down to the lobby to eat an entirely horrible excuse for a complimentary continental breakfast. I mean it was bloody awful. Everything was stale. A few things were bordering on moldy. I could throw it no compliments at all.

The food was inedible for all intents and purposes, except for us taking whatever we can get. Free food is better than food that costs money. As I mentioned earlier I have eaten out of garbage pails. This was ... marginally better. You get that way when you always live hand to mouth, even if it is by design.

We walked to the train station, which was a beautiful example of Art Deco architecture. We both kind of gasped in awe at its surprising beauty. I have since found out that it was main terminal for the Toronto, Hamilton, & Buffalo railway. That would probably explain its grandeur. When a railroad built its home terminal, it was usually designed to be grander, richer, and more impressive than that of its rivals. Egos run amok and all that.

GO Transit’s ridiculously ugly Hawker-Siddeley aluminum Bi-level cars were jarring to look at, but we climbed aboard and went to the upper level. The seats were a little wider than your standard commuter car, but they were still very uncomfortable. Still, it was a picturesque journey along the Lake Ontario shoreline, and through the cityscape of Toronto.

We settled in for the ride and chatted about what we might do when we got to Toronto. We didn’t have any firm plans in place for what were were going to do but I knew we’d find something to do; we had to in order to spend long enough in Toronto to wait out any immediate heat. The train’s progress along the tracks was quick but the train lacked the atmosphere of an inter-city train.

Toronto Union Station was reputed to be among the most beautiful of the remaining great train stations. Well, let me tell you that the rumors are true. It very much is one of the great remaining train stations. Indeed, I’d rank it a close second to Grand Central Terminal in New York and in front of Washington Union Station.

It wouldn’t hold a candle to New York Pennsylvania Station but that building was demolished in a 1964 act of malicious vandalism. Still, as a hobo and a lover of historic preservation, I know that the loss of the crown jewel of American architecture was the catalyst that produced the whole historic preservation movement. Countless other treasures would have been lost were the outrage from its destruction not there.

As we walked through Toronto’s PATH underground city, we continued our debate on what to do. Toronto’s underground city was an interesting thing to behold. It would make it comfortable to walk around in the biting cold of the Toronto winter weather.

Because we had to lay low, we decided that Toronto center city wouldn’t exactly be ideal and ended up finding a room right out on edge on the border with Mississauga. It was a dumpy budget motel of dubious security and quality, but it was a roof over our head. A legitimate roof over our head.