79 In love with one of the guests

It was morning after the third night and we headed on out of the free hostel. While I was thinking about this part of the story, I found a photo of railroad tracks in Berkeley. I'm sure that the hostel was near tracks. I knew it was on the boundaries, thought there was a train.

We walked with the Chicken Lady and her man. I loved to hear stories and thoughts from all different kinds of people, especially those on the edges. They were making the rounds in Berkeley before us and knew a bit more about survival techniques. They were headed over to the dorms at the University of Berkeley. It was close to People's Park. That was the whole beginning.

Moe's Books and People's Park were on Telegraph Ave. It was all situated pretty close. Honest to God I'm not sure which building it was, but it seemed modern in 1972. I know it wasn't the International House, we would walk up the hill on occasion to go to the cafeteria there. Anyway, I read a number of the dorms have been demolished since that time.

The International House

Chicken Lady led the way. We had our backpacks and sleeping bags. Geez..when was the last time we used those sleeping bags? So our Texas friends checked into the hostel that they had going on in that building. People weren't looking on the internet to see who was running from the law back then. I wonder about it. Maybe the Hearsts funded some of these operations? They had a street named after them running right next to the grounds. Just a thought. It was all weird.

Oh. It costs money? The people at the desk looked like they were in college and they couldn't have been friendlier. We just met and we were having some laughs. I don't remember the amount or our mindset, but we opted out. We had an idea. Our thought was to save a little money and get an apartment instead. So we were going to find a place, hidden away, to sleep.There were hedges all throughout the vicinity and little patches of grass. Secret patches.

There was a square within a square past a square of hedges. We were pretty wise as to what was cool and found a spot. So we shoved our stuff inside a hidden bush and took off for our days work. LBJ walked up by the International House to the Hillel Streetwork Project for some manly labor and I went off to pick up my tin for the Berkeley Free Clinic. Got a full day in of watching the action on the street and collecting some funds. I was the friendliest, cleanest panhandler you could ever meet. I did pretty well but I usually went into a public restroom to turn the tin upside and skim a little bit off the top. It was pretty much expected. Compared to what some people were doing, I was pretty innocent.

Back to the bushes after food and more walking. We were in our home for the next while. We unfurled the sleeping bags. Oh no. That mummy bag that got wet in Ohio! That smell. Somehow I ended up in it. It was the smell of mold and mildew. Rotting blubber and old cheese left under the front doorstep. I was going to beg LBJ to switch with me, but he was knocked out. He was tearing a house apart all day. I made it through the night. We didn't have a watch or a clock but the light of day and the sound of the early morning birds woke us up. Laying there for a second and something caught my eye. What the hell? A friggin snail in the sleeping bag. I jumped the hell out of that thing. I might have yelled yucch. There wasn't just one friggin snail in there, there was at least six of those slimy things swimming around in there. Not huge or I would think I would have felt them. Sneaky bastards sliming around in there.

We were close to the hostel front desk and asked if I could use the restroom. Yeah. Can I take a shower? Got along really well with the front desk people. Yeah. LBJ and I got cleaned up. He went off and I delayed my panhandling for a while. They had a little laundry and I decided to shove the sleeping bag in the washing machine. Problem is that the smell was soaked in there so bad it never came out. We worked out a deal that I would clean the main bathroom and shower in exchange for using them, since we weren't paying. Jesus. I had belly laughs with those people.