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I don’t own a car. I don’t know a lot of people with cars. Well, I do but I don’t bother them for rides. I just take the bus wherever I need to go. It’s cheap, it gets me to where I need to go faster than walking. I get to hang out with interesting strangers. The only time it sucks is when it’s late or I miss it and have to wait for the next one. Other than that it’s pretty cool. I don’t know why more people don’t use public transportation in Gucci Factory Outlet this day and age. It’s like everybody has to own a fucking car. It’s some kind of status shit with Americans I guess. They used to call it conspicuous consumption. Having shit just so other people know you have shit. People who I ride the bus with are generally pretty mellow. Nobody is cheap gucci belts flipping anybody off or yelling because somebody cut them off at the light. The bus drivers don’t even do that shit. The bus drivers don’t talk on their phone or text or check their farcebook messages while they drive either. I’ve never been on a bus and been pulled over by the police. I’ve never had to struggle with a fucked up twisted seat belt when riding a bus. I’ve never seen a bus with a Glenn Beck for President bumper sticker on it. Obviously because public transportation is for commies. Which makes it even more appealing to me. Oh, and riding the bus is better for the enviornment I guess. As if anybody gives a shit anymore. After all, worrying about pollution from millions of single driver cars is, like so 2003.

The bus is also cool for taking pictures. If for no other reason than I’m saying so. The windows are big, and if you do it just so you can get a partial indoor/outdoor at the same time picture. I don’t know. I just think shit like that is neat.So there I was. Downtown Seattle, end of the eighties, having a go at my first real shot of big city vagrancy. The whole thing wasn’t entirely new to me. I’d been doing the whole homeless punk routine for awhile already, on and off, in Auburn. But this was a much grander scale. I wasn’t scared, I remember Gucci outlet store that much. The combination of youthful naivety, and basically just not giving a fuck-also an affliction of youth-made it all seem easy. And it was, Gucci outletreally. I got on the bus, went to the city, and decided to take it from there. I’d been to Seattle plenty of times already, and come back to Auburn after varying adventures, so this just seemed like the next logical step. However,I’d spent all my money on bus fare. So I was broke, bemohawked, and just looking for something to do. First things first, I needed to get up some cash. I had a homemade coke seal stuffed with crushed up cold tablets I’d had the forethought to bring with me. This, I figured would net me an easy twenty five bucks once I was able to pass it off as some sort of designer drug to some hapless user. Of course, at the time I had no idea that Second and Pike was just about the worst place in the whole city to try and move some bunk MDMA. I would have had much better luck selling busted up Macadamia nuts soaked in Orajel as crack, or melted down brown sugar as black tar heroin. So, I wasn’t having much luck. Then I see this hippie looking dude. He was old and crusty, long gray hair and all. I figured this was my mark. I gave him the line about having some “pure pharmaceutical grade Swiss MDMA” for sale. Seemed like he fell for it. We start talking. He cheap gucci belt says yeah he’ll buy it, but he only had like four dollars and some change, could I sell him that much worth?. I had a moment, like one of those conscience moments. I couldn’t take this dude’s last four dollars for bunk drugs. I came clean, it’s bunk I told him. Abba-dabba, fugazi, drama dope, Jake bait, faker than a hookers climax. He said he knew it was fake. Then he asked me what I was doing downtown. I told him I just decided to come live in Seattle. He asked me if I had a place to stay. I said no. He said “Me neither, kid” then he asked if I wanted to go drink some beer with him and “Half the Indian Nation.” I said yeah sure.

This is how I met Sam. Wino extraordinaire, would-be philosopher and a sort of back alley mentor during those first few days up there. He’s also a big reason why I even lived to tell this tale. If it weren’t for him I probably would have tried to rip off the wrong motherfucker with cold tablets and got myself fucked up bad. That part of Seattle is pretty much filled with wrong motherfuckers. Also it helped that he sort of “vouched” for me with the other winos. I didn’t have to worry about getting rolled for my trench or my shoes at least when I was with him. So I went drinking that first day with Sam and he met up with his his crew. We didn’t go to the Central or the Comet or any cool place where cool people went to drink. We drank in alleys downtown,Pike Place, Pioneer Square, the waterfront; the places where the civilized masses pass and feel derision, contempt, occasional pity even when observing the human wreckage and empty bottles of Wild Irish Rose or Thunderbird littering the environs. Needless to say we weren’t sipping single malt scotch, Pabst or micro brews anyway. More like St. Ides and Old English malt liquor and a variety fortified wines improperly marketed for human consumption.

Seventeen years old and I was learning to drink like a low bottom alcoholic three times my age. And I couldn’t be a pussy about it. Not with these guys. The most grievous insult you could hurl was to turn down a gucci bags passed bottle. It was just bad form, and it was a quick way to get yourself a fight. “Oh, this aint good enough for ya? Whass fuggin wrong with you?” I only made the mistake once. Sam bailed me out, “Oh, he’s still wet behind the ears! He didn’t mean it that way, didja kid? Now go ahead, drink, you hurt the old man’s feelings-he wants to share his wine with you!” I began to apologize vociferously, but was cut off by the bottle sharer “Aww, shaddup and have a swig, s’aright, s’alright.” So I drank. And drank some more. I wound up so fucking drunk I could have made contact with the spirit world, I swear. Recalling that night, that first night in Seattle, is but a patchwork of blurs. I remember drinking with Cheap Gucci Belts, Gucci Mens Shoes Sam and some of the other guys downtown. I clearly remember boarding a Metro bus with Sam and not being able to stay upright, nor having gucci wallets bus fare of any sort. As a testament to the fact that bus drivers in Seattle, at least back then, were generally a bunch of cool motherfuckers-we didn’t get kicked off. In fact we made it all the way to Seattle Center before Sam Said “this is our stop.”

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Somehow I wound up waking up in a parking garage the next day at the bottom of Queen Anne hill. All I remember between when we got off the bus that night and when I woke up was at some point Sam said “Don’t worry kid, you Gucci Belt can go to sleep. I aint no pervert or nothin.” And he wasn’t. He was a champion drunk the magnitude of which I’ve rarely encountered, but he looked out for me. So that morning we made our way back downtown. Sam asked me if I was hungry. I replied “Fucking starving.” He told me not to worry we’d be eating in a jiffy. He led me into Pike Place Market, to the entrance of an import foods store in there. He looked at me, bleached blond mohican, trench coat, ripped jeans…and he says “OK, kid. Here it is. You run interference. Just go look like you’re up to something. It shouldn’t be hard. I’ll get the food. Meet me by the news stand in ten minutes.” So I followed his instructions. I was built for this shit. Punk rock types kind of pride themselves on looking suspicious anyways. Sure enough the store employees were eyeballing the fuck out of me while Sam purloined cans of goose liver pate and shoved them in his pockets, completely unnoticed.

I met him at the designated location. Then began our epic quest for a can opener to use. We couldn’t find one. We looked everywhere. Not even the mini mart up from Time Travelers had one. The store guy did have one Gucci Belts online of those bottle opener/can punch things though, you know with the one pointed end you can use for opening cans of condensed milk…or goose liver pate, in gucci belts for men a pinch. Sam punched the fuck out of the cans, and we managed to pry them semi open. It wound up we’re in this alley down there skarfing this stuff, and Sam is telling me how it’s the healthiest stuff to steal. He went on about it’s nutritional benefits as opposed to what they feed you at the mission, and how you can pretty much live on it. Tell you what, it was rich and quite filling. I couldn’t even finish the can even though it was delicious. Sam told me not to throw it away but to feed the rest to the birds. So there I am, feeding seagulls 16 dollar a can goose liver pate and I’m like “Wow, they really like this stuff.” Sam says, “Ya see those Seagulls? They live like kings. Cause we live like kings. Freedom, kid. Freedom. It doesn’t matter if you’re rich. If you have freedom you’re king of the world.” After we ate Sam took me panhandling. I was like a prop in his act. He’d ask people for change, or if they “Want to purchase this fine young man for ten dollars. He cooks, he cleans, he’ll even do the dishes…OK, five dollars, I realize he’s a little worn looking.” He would only say that to ladies though, and usually it would elicit at least a chuckle. First rule of spare changing I learned: if you can make them laugh your Gucci Handbags Outlet chances of getting some money increase thirty-fold. We did alright. Nobody outright bought me, even at bargain basement rates, but we hauled enough change to pay for some booze. And, as it turned out Sam knew a certain Samoan dealer downtown who would give him extraordinary bargains on cocaine. Apparently the guy Gucci outlet felt sorry for Sam, or Sam had brought the guy a lot of business, I was never clear on it. But we found the Samoan and wound up getting high as fuck for what amounted to something like two dollars and twenty six cents in change. Which still left us with plenty of loot to bottle up and go on. The whole trick though, as Sam explained, is to get good and drunk enough before you notice how bad you want more coke.

It was later that afternoon and we’re in the alley next to the old wig store up from Left Bank Books on Pike street. There were like five or six of us. Me, Sam, and a bunch of his Indian friends. We’re all piss drunk. This kid shows up, he’s like college age, and he’s got a bottle of VO or some shit-some cheap whiskey. He’s like some suburban kid, nice enough though, actually real nice since he breaks Cheap Gucci Handbags USA Online Factory Outlet out the bottle and is just like “Here, I brought this for you guys!” There is much toasting and graciousness aimed at this mystery booze provider. He hangs out for awhile, has a couple of swigs and just seems genuinely glad to be of assistance. Then he rolls out with a wave over his shoulder. Fucking weirder than weird. Never seen nothing like it before or since. A visit from the magic booze wizard or some shit. So now we’re all totally fucking lit. And there’s still wine going around. I swear, it was like those guys were just able to make fucking Mad Dog 20/20 materialize out of thin air. So we’re all sitting up against this wall at the entrance to the alley, completely wrecked…and this guy walks by with his woman on Pike. Sam pipes up, pointing to me “See this kid? Ten bucks and he’s yours!!HAHAHAHA” I call out, “I do dishes even!.” Fucking guy walking up the street turns, runs up on me, and commences with the boots. I didn’t know what the fuck. Nobody knew what the fuck. Fucker got off some good ones in my ribs. My inebriated compatriots slowly began to gather themselves and stand up. It was like something Gucci (Gucci) Diamante diamond pattern series contains a variety of brightly colored handbags Gucci (Gucci) iconic styles from casual bucket shoulder bag, clutch exquisite, practical bag, sports bag bowling bag to Boston, to the original size or press proportion design mini models, both practical and enchanting feminine. out of a zombie movie, these weaving, shambling figures attempting to come to my aid while going “Heeeeeyyyy….” I don’t think they would have actually intervened. I know they wouldn’t have, it would have interrupted the wine drinking and after all I was just some kid with a fucked up haircut who would heal up in a couple of days anyway. But, apparently the dude booting me didn’t know that. By the time two or three of my compatriots managed to stagger to their feet he was gone, running off with his woman up the sidewalk.

Everybody there looked at me. There was a moment of stunned silence. Suddenly all these guys erupt in laughter and I have four wine bottles thrust in my direction. Fuck, I laughed too. My ribs hurt like a bitch but all said it was pretty fucken funny. Some motherfuckers just cant take a joke, I guess. However, all good things must come to an end. After a few days of hanging out with Sam and his cohorts I got up one morning in the parking garage and Sam told me “Well, kid. This is it. I’ve got business to attend to out on First hill and I have to fly solo. You should maybe go up on Broadway, check it out up there. There’s lots of kids like you go up there, you’ll be alright.” And that was it. He went his way, and I started wandering back 2014 Luxury Gucci Handbags Outlet Online Sale downtown trying to come up with a plan for myself. But I can’t say I never saw Sam again. I did, in Olympia like three years later. He was all cleaned up, though he still appeared to be a generic a fifty something hippie. Just a cleaned up hippie. We said hi and talked for a couple of minutes. But I Gucci handbags & Gucci bags, Gucci outlet online store was on my way to go score drugs and by that familiar look in his eyes he was on his way to go get a bottle.