Homeless man... good news... bad news... and now more bad news

I have a few very minor horror stories of how fast things can go bad. A combination of good luck, good timing, friends, and family bailed me out.

I come home one day to a notice on my door. Pretty large house that my ex wife rented out while I was out to sea. It was a repo notice. A day or two later, the repo guy showed up. The emotional toll it takes is hard to explain. Tough guy knocks on the door, asks "Are you Joshua Tootell", then immediately calls the police on his cell after I reply "yes". I watched him and his partner ride off on both of our motorcycles. Apparently, the ex wasn't paying bills while I was out to sea. I came back from the middle east with a car she bought without consulting me (at full KBB value and 13% interest), a motorcycle (her second, that she couldn't even ride), maxed $10,000 credit card, and a $10,000 "consolidation loan" at 32%! That was the first time I start commuting by bicycle. 13 miles to base on a free mountain bike, 7 miles home (they let the USCG ride the trolley for free). That held up my security clearance, and helped cement the idea that I was a pile of Sh!t at my new unit.

Many many years later. I think things are going okay. I had tried to switch careers, getting out of commercial HVACR as it is rough on the body, and not conducive to training (when I got real serious about my fitness). I am returning from a 24 hour motorcycle race in Lancaster, and I call the ex to let her know I'll be home in a few hours. I was about a third of the way home. When I do get home, the house is pretty quiet. I walk into the bedroom to see my ex asleep in bed, so I try to gently wake her up to tell her I'm home. I get a very muted response. I look over and see about 10 empty pill bottles on the nightstand.

Both of those times luck kept me out of the worst of conditions. I did live in my now ex's truck for about a week when she moved in with a friend out of town. But I was never totally homeless, or without resources. Both times (and other times) I found a way to survive.

As a general rule, I don't give anything to panhandlers. But that is only because I don't know which ones are "professionally homeless", and which are just down on their luck. I had major support every time something happened to me, and aside from not leaving my ex sooner, I was not at fault in any way. I am sure countless others have had something go wrong they couldn't recover from, and couldn't just move in with a friend and start a new job. I have a huge level of sympathy for those people, and I wish I had the answer as to how to sort them out and support them. I have been terribly close to being one of them, and it sucks.
 
rossage said:
Early 1990s, Los Angeles ...
I ride my bike up Sunset Blvd from downtown LA. Echo Park, Los Feliz, Hollywood. The neighborhoods changing with the setting sun.
As I approach my apartment, I notice that the lights are off. Unusual in that it meant my roommates weren't home, and they were always home before me.
I pulled up to the door and saw a notice. We had been evicted. Unbeknownst to me, our chief roommate was into the crack epidemic that was ravaging the streets. He had been wasting the rent money on his high and we all got thrown on the street.
The deadbolt had been changed and I had to climb up the fire-escape to break in and get my meager belongings. Illegal, I know, but it had to be done. Luckily, I was living like Dylan, and "when you got nothing, you got nothing to lose"
Grabbed my Sh!t and hit the streets. Now what?
Most people come to Hollywood to take a few pics, stand on a star or two, and put your hands in the cement of the Chinese theater. I was living there, working as a messenger downtown and trying to figure out what I was going to do with my life.
Twenty four and there's so much more...
The veneer of success in Hollywood is very thin and a slight rub brings the dark secrets to the surface rapidly. Drug addicts, scammers, whores, and hangers-on... These were the people around me.
I had no where to go. No family. No friends. I was on the street. I was homeless.
I slept on a bus bench under the 101 freeway, where it crosses over Franklin and Gower. I tried to imagine the roar of the traffic was like the crashing of the waves on a beach. Not the same...
I went to work the next morning, my belongings in a duffel bag. I told my boss what happened and he smiled, said "that sucks" and sent me on my first delivery.
I had $100 in my pocket until payday, six days away... Damn.
I knew I had to find a place to stay. No luck with my co-workers... Wish I had a girlfriend...I didn't want to spend another night under a freeway.
In between deliveries I rode down 5th st to skid row. Hotel Cecil had rooms, a week for $70. Now I know prices have changed a lot, but even in 1990, ten bucks a night for a room wasn't getting me much.
I was given room 402. The elevator was broken so I needed to carry my bike and belongings up 4 flights of stairs. I opened the stairwell door to a couple of dudes smoking crack..a couple of flights later, a prostitute was giving what looked to be a wonderful blow job-judging by the look on the guys face...
Welcome to Hotel Cecil.
The stained carpet crunched as I entered the room. A single, uncovered bulb, swung slowly from the ceiling casting weird shadows. A cockroach lingered on the wall. The sheets were folded and laying on a badly stained mattress. I flipped it over and the stains were worse. I prepared a bed on the floor.
The neon lights of the Cecil shone into the room through the threadbare curtain. I looked out on the chaos as two women fought in the street and the sirens wailed through the night. I tried to sleep.
After getting the room, I had about $30 left. I went to the Grand Central Market and bought two loaves of bread, a huge jar of peanut butter and jelly and a bag of Doritos, some fruit, and some beer and I was tapped out. Maybe had a few bucks left.
Here we go! I'm going to make it.
I awoke to the horrors of my food being raided by rats! They had literally bored a hole through a loaf of bread and into the Doritos bag. F@ck!
Try sleeping after that happens to you.
The next day, as I arrived "home ", I noticed the elevator was working. No more 4 flight walk up. I shared a smile with a toothless old lady before the screams interrupted our moment of innocence. The elevator door had opened upon a man laying in a large pool of blood, with what looked like a Bowie knife sticking out of his stomach. Barely alive as his raised hand grasped at the sky, mouthing silent prayers as the light ran out of his glossy, alcoholic eyes.
"Sh!t! Now we gotta use the stairs again!" said the sweet gummy grandma. Life is cheap on 5th st..
I sold my last few days there for $20 and hit the streets. Again I found a spot under a bridge. Under the 4th st bridge.
"under the bridge downtown" said the Chili Peppers. Yeah that bridge.
Someone stole my duffle as I slept. No clothes now except what I had on my back. I really don't know how I survived those last couple of days until I got a paycheck and started to get back on my feet.
I went to the Weingarten center for free food. First you had to listen to the fire and brimstone preaching for an hour while you smelled the food but couldn't get any. Pure torture.
I went dumpster diving behind restaurants. I ate every piece of candy or treat that I saw in the fancy law offices I was in and out of all day.
I was there. I was on the streets. I know what it takes to survive out there. But, there is one thing I never did, probably because I was able to keep my job, and that was to beg for money.
I knew what I had to do to get out do this situation and I knew only I could help myself. No stranger and their money was going to save me. No sign by the overpass, no sign by the bus stop...
But be forewarned, circumstances can pile up quickly and before you know it, you too will be sharing your Doritos with the rats.
Click to expand...
At which point in your journey did you become a geologist?
 
Sidewalk said:
I have a few very minor horror stories of how fast things can go bad. A combination of good luck, good timing, friends, and family bailed me out.

I come home one day to a notice on my door. Pretty large house that my ex wife rented out while I was out to sea. It was a repo notice. A day or two later, the repo guy showed up. The emotional toll it takes is hard to explain. Tough guy knocks on the door, asks "Are you Joshua Tootell", then immediately calls the police on his cell after I reply "yes". I watched him and his partner ride off on both of our motorcycles. Apparently, the ex wasn't paying bills while I was out to sea. I came back from the middle east with a car she bought without consulting me (at full KBB value and 13% interest), a motorcycle (her second, that she couldn't even ride), maxed $10,000 credit card, and a $10,000 "consolidation loan" at 32%! That was the first time I start commuting by bicycle. 13 miles to base on a free mountain bike, 7 miles home (they let the USCG ride the trolley for free). That held up my security clearance, and helped cement the idea that I was a pile of Sh!t at my new unit.

Many many years later. I think things are going okay. I had tried to switch careers, getting out of commercial HVACR as it is rough on the body, and not conducive to training (when I got real serious about my fitness). I am returning from a 24 hour motorcycle race in Lancaster, and I call the ex to let her know I'll be home in a few hours. I was about a third of the way home. When I do get home, the house is pretty quiet. I walk into the bedroom to see my ex asleep in bed, so I try to gently wake her up to tell her I'm home. I get a very muted response. I look over and see about 10 empty pill bottles on the nightstand.

Both of those times luck kept me out of the worst of conditions. I did live in my now ex's truck for about a week when she moved in with a friend out of town. But I was never totally homeless, or without resources. Both times (and other times) I found a way to survive.

As a general rule, I don't give anything to panhandlers. But that is only because I don't know which ones are "professionally homeless", and which are just down on their luck. I had major support every time something happened to me, and aside from not leaving my ex sooner, I was not at fault in any way. I am sure countless others have had something go wrong they couldn't recover from, and couldn't just move in with a friend and start a new job. I have a huge level of sympathy for those people, and I wish I had the answer as to how to sort them out and support them. I have been terribly close to being one of them, and it sucks.
Click to expand...
:thumbsdown::thumbsup:
 
DangerDirtyD said:
At which point in your journey did you become a geologist?
Click to expand...

Actually, my timeline is a little off, it was more like 88 or 89 when that happened. I ended up starting my own messenger service, and then selling it to finance a home and my education. Still have the education. Ex-wife got the house.
I started working as a Geologist in 1998.
I'm currently a carnie that works a bike shops for parts and abuse.
 
I think everybody should strike out in a car or less and experience life less tethered for a time. It's an opportunity to grow and learn – to get to know oneself. Thanks for your share, @rossage.

I had a car and office space for a time, no residence beyond my pickup. Shower at the gym. Sleep parked wherever. Not exactly destitute, but the best part of it? I started dating the weezl during that time. I figured it was a good test – like, it would have to be true love for a decent lass to go for a homeless dood. We got married two months later, and she moved into my truck until we could get a pad. 17 years ago.

I would not trade my stints of "homelessness" for anything. How are you supposed to take a year off if you have to pay rent or mortgage? Wait for retirement? F no.
 
Wow, hell of a story Ross! And to you Sidewalk! I was in the homeless club also for about 3 months but never lived on the streets thankfully! My dad believed in tough love and kicked me out the house, my brothers band member said I could stay at some peoples house I never met who were out of the country for a month, as long as I fed the cats so he didn’t have to do it. I stayed for three scarry weeks not knowing if maybe somebody would see me as breaking in and not familiar, and what if somebody came home early? After that I bounced around various friends places for a few nights and then landed for another three weeks at a different high school buddy's house, then his mom had enough of me free loading and kicked me out, it was raining and I was sick. Walking the street in the rain for 2 hours I broke down and called my parents and said I was screwed and tattooed and dripping with failure, My dad said I’ll pick you up but, you need to enlist in the armed forces by next week. When I got home I helped him put my bed in the garage where I slept till I was gone to boot camp, that’s what it took for me to realize nobody was going to help me but myself.
 
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hill^billy said:
Wow, hell of a story Ross! And to you Sidewalk! I was in the homeless club also for about 3 months but never lived on the streets thankfully! My dad believed in tough love and kicked me out the house, my brothers band member said I could stay at some peoples house I never met who were out of the country for a month, as long as I fed the cats so he didn’t have to do it. I stayed for three scarry weeks not knowing if maybe somebody would see me as breaking in and not familiar, and what if somebody came home early? After that I bounced around various friends places for a few nights and then landed for another three weeks at a different high school buddy's house, then his mom had enough of me free loading and kicked me out, it was raining and I was sick. Walking the street in the rain for 2 hours I brocke down and called my parents and said I was screwed and tattooed and dripping with failure, My dad said I’ll pick you up but, you need to enlist in the armed forces by next week. When I got home I helped him put my bed in the garage where I slept till I was gone to boot camp, that’s what it took for me to realize nobody was going to help me but myself.
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These are great stories...our hardships make us strong and give us character!! I won’t share my shite, but I’m grateful for every bit of it!
@mike @rossage @Sidewalk @hill^billy
 
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mountaingirl sara said:
These are great stories...our hardships make us strong and give us character!! I won’t share my shite, but I’m grateful for every bit of it!
@mike @rossage @DangerDirtyD @hill^billy
Click to expand...
To date, I don’t deserve consideration amongst these guys with their trails and tribulations. I had all the opportunity an American can wish for, and so did my sister, but she effed that up and would be one of the characters in Rossage’s story if it weren’t for my parents, both of who rose from the ashes.
 
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I once had to sleep in a hotel lobby in a snowstorm. That's about it for my hardship stories. :oops: I realize I am one turn of luck (or poor choice) away from destitution at any moment.

Thanks fellas for sharing your stories. If we haven't experienced that kind of desperation, I hope we are grateful everyday for what we have, and are willing to share with others in a way that will not contribute to their misery.
 
Actually the military is not where I learned disclipline. I learned diclipine from my dad and his belt, from my Christain schooling and there paddle, and from my Japanese martial arts instructors and there bamboo swords slapping my lower extrimities, it’s when before we became soft if you can remember.
I just chose not to conform until proven wrong otherwise! Disclipine and advancment in the martial arts from 10 years old to 16 was what I think saved my life!
I was more shocked than anything else in boot camp, I did alot of suffering because of some real sorry individules who ruined it for the ones who tried. Got me ready for real life if that sounds familiar to anybody? It’s where I realized I was not that bad after all.
I became the self appointed drill instuctor and kicked everybody's ass! I think the military did teach me team work though. But remember it only takes a few to ruin it for the team, so to this day I have picked individual type sports. I was not liked by many, not to mention I was from Calif. and also stationed in Calif. while most were very far from home.
 
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