In November of 1984, I had decided that had been there for long enough - over a year on 5th phase. I was working right down the street from the building washing dishes in some restaurant...I had a paycheck on me. My only bank account was a joint account w/ my parents (all we were allowed) so I didn't think I could cash it. Naive, I know. I had my ticket to freedom on me the whole time and didn't even realize it! Hindsight's 20/20.
I remember that day riding into "the building" from my host home in Silver Spring or somewhere around DC. It was like early afternoon when I would walk down to the dishing job. That was when I did it. There was a bridge over some railroad tracks. Down the embankment I went to the tracks.....no turning back now. That was it. I was gone. I followed the tracks in the direction that I thought Baltimore might be. I don't know how far I went before deciding to venture away from the tracks. Probably at least a mile. I went into a gas station and walked up to a few people and asked them for rides. Finally this black guy agreed to let me ride with him. He got me as far as Arlington. I remember walking for a while there before getting to the bridge that went into DC. It was getting dark by then. I had nowhere to go, so just hung around watching all the people on the 'strip' in Georgetown there...
I started walking. I walked and walked thinking about how I was going to get to Baltimore. I ended up in a bad neighborhood. Some guy about my age and this little punk that was with him approached me. The guy was smiling at me. It didn't seem right. It wasn't. He caught me with a right to my lip. Being scared of getting my ass kicked or being killed, I reached in my pocket for the check which I intended to hand over and they ran off. I heard the punk say something about a knife. They had thought that I was trying to pull a knife on them. I saw an older, more respectable looking guy out on the street. I told him what had just happened, that I had split from a rehab and needed somewhere to stay. Just to get off the street. He said that he was having his girl over so he couldn't put me up, and that I ought to consider going back to my family if I had any. Little did he know about the brainwashing job Straight had done on my parents. I saw a homeless shelter and went in. They didn't want to take me because of what hour it was. I managed to talk them into letting me spend the night. Not a good experience. Before going to bed they made you take a shower. Creepy. The snoring was terrible. I didn't sleep that night but at least I was off the street...
So I got up & ate the paste-like oatmeal & drank the coffee and started walking around DC. It was overcast and colder that day. I wandered onto a college campus somewhere and looked around for anyone who I thought I could approach and ask if they knew anyone headed to Baltimore...If I had it to do over, I would have just been persistant and bummed enough money for a bus ticket outta there (or cashed that check somewhere and used that) Anyway, I remember going into the Hirschorn museum and killing like 2-3 hours in there walking around and sleeping on a bench. I stayed until it closed. I approached people on the street and asked them if they knew of somewhere that I could stay for a night or if they knew of anyone going to Baltimore that I could ride with. Shots in the dark.
Why did I cop-out when I was 18 and could have just withdrawn myself? I had already tried that. My sister talked me into staying because I would have had no ride home that night. I don't recall what she said to me. So now I had decided to cop out. All I had to do was to get to Baltimore and let the chips fall where they may. I'd find my old friends in a heartbeat. I walked around some more. I walked to the Wilson center (an old all-ages club) It was closed or shut down. Any money I got my hands on I spent on food. I ended up kind of pairing up with this homeless guy on the street and he told me that he was headed back to a good shelter. I walked with him. When we got near the place, I was hesitant about going in. The bums were threatening him saying that they were going to roll him for his money. I remember him telling me that he had been trying to save up so he could get off the street. I decided to bail. I had had enough of homeless shelters anyway. It had begun to rain. I was cold. At that point I decided to give up. I called my mom. I told her I was at the greyhound station. She showed up a while later crying as if she were relieved to see me alive. We rode up to Baltimore. What we talked about during that ride I don't know. I can't remember if I tried to ask her if I could just stay home and to hell with the program, or what?In any case, ultimately I resolved to go back in. I knew I'd be started over. But it's like I had gotten used to being there and the people there that I didn't really know what else to do after so much time away. So I went back to str8 & ended up finishing in about 6 weeks. They 'pushed me through' the program. About time...
It wasn't long after that that my mom kicked me out of the house for hanging out with my "druggie" friends, even though I wasn't getting high with them. I didn't leave because I wanted to get high...I just wanted my freedom again.
