Damn it feels good to be a hobo...

I wondered around Towson running into all my old friends one by one and I was greeted with surprised faces. It felt good to hear everyone tell me how great it was to have me back, and it finally felt like I was home again. Something happened at that moment. Maybe it was looking back on all that I had lived through in the past year, and feeling sure that I could live through anything. Or maybe it was hitting bottom in Savannah, sure that I would know nothing but loneliness for the rest of my existence. It was most likely a combination of the two that threw my mind into a state of indifference, and through that, the confidence that comes with knowing nothing really matters. Surely, this was nirvana.

"Sometimes, all it takes it the ability to let what truly doesn't matter, slide." - Fight Club

I was hitting bottom in a way I had never imagined possible, and it felt good. And it was at this wonderful point in my life that I fell absolutely, forever in love.

With my personal hang ups out of the way, my confidence and knowledge that anything was possible was immediately reflected in my relationships towards women. Caution was suddenly something for fools, and I took emotional risks freely without fear of rejection. I was rewarded with affection from more than a few attractive people in town.

Three weeks later I was standing in front of Ten Car Pileup, the only all ages music venue in Towson. During the day it was a vintage clothing store, owned by Paul(?), a guy that I was sure was the last hip business owner in town. Some of the business owners were downright hostile towards anyone without a credit card. At night Paul(?) hosted shows at Ten Car almost every weekend in the summer, and everyone gathered around it, smoking cigarettes, hanging out, and occasionally going inside to watch the bands play.

It was just another saturday night at Ten Car when a girl I had never seen before caught my eye. I stood on my toes to see her over the crowd. She stood with two other people, not really mingling with any of the other people. Immediately it was decided that I should strike up a conversation. I made my way through the crowd, and introduced myself. "And what is your name may I ask?"

"I don't think I can tell you that," she returned half-jokingly. "What do you want it to be?"

Although I thought it was odd she wouldn't tell me her name, I let it slide. "I think your name should be Latifa Shenanay," I retorted amusingly. The three of them laughed, and from there it was easy going. I was hyper, completely cracked out on coffee, and so I danced, shook, and talked incessantly, doing anything I could to keep her attention, and keep her laughing. It was something l loved to do when I was in the right mood.

It was after the last band played and everyone was heading home that I popped the question. "So... Shenanay," I said with a smirk on my face, "can I get your phone number? Maybe we could hang out again sometime."

"I don't think I really know you well enough to give you that," she replied.

"Hmm... well, at can I at least get your real name?" I said, somewhat disappointed.

"Maybe some other time," she said, "see you later Matt."

"Um, okay then, maybe I'll see you around again sometime?" I said as she walked away. I wasn't sure why she was being so difficult, and it gave me the feeling she wasn't interested. It was the first blow to my ego I had taken in a while, but I did my best to shrug it off. It had been a fun night, and I knew that there was something about her I really liked. I ran to catch up with my friends down the street, and continued with them down to our drinking spot.

A few days later, I was making another run to the liquor store next to Pizza Palace when I saw "Shenanay" and another girl walking up the street towards me. They stopped, and she introduced the girl next to her as her sister Sarah. I invited them back to the roof my friends were drinking at. "Sorry, we really got to get home. We have to be there by midnight," she said. Before they walked away though, she handed me a piece of paper. On it was her name and phone number. I smiled.

"Thanks... Beverly," I said, reading the name off the piece of paper. "Can I call you tomorrow?"

"Sure," she said. "See you later."

I walked back to the roof where everyone was waiting impatiently for the beer I was returning with, feeling pretty damn pleased with myself. At that point, any other love interests I had were put on the back burner.

We continued back and forth in a short game of cat and mouse for a while until we officially decided we were in a relationship. We had our first kiss in a graveyard, and we spent nights cuddled together in squats, talking about whatever came to mind. It was the first relationship I had been in that I hadn't been stomped on in some way or another. My previous relationships had always left one of us wanting, and Beverly was the first girl that I knew cared about me as much as I did her.

My heart was reeling from the pleasures of love combined with my joyous unemployment and hanging out with friends in the commons all day, playing guitar and singing in the streets, protesting the war, dumpstering bagels, and cleaning up the abandoned house we were squatting. Our new squat had been dubbed the 'Playboy Mansion' because we had found an old silver whistle with the playboy embelem on it inside. It was anything but a mansion... We planned our route for getting to the G8 protests in Canada, and everything was going well until the news came that our squat had been busted.

Our friend Mugsy came running into the Borders bookstore where we had been hanging out and told us that someone just saw two of our friends getting arrested at the mansion. The only thing we could find out about the situation was that Zoe and Dan had been busted inside the mansion smoking pot. We cleared out of Borders and headed for the police precinct where we could see them being fingerprinted and processed behind the front desk. They were being charged with fourth degree burglary and tresspassing. We gathered banners and drums and took to the streets in a spontaneous protest march around Towson that lasted up until shortly after their release. Upon their release they were given to their parents because they were minors, meaning Zoe had to go back with his parents to Virginia. I was bummed because I knew how much Zoe wanted to go to Canada with us. He talked about it all the time and now it wasn't very likely he'd be back in the next ten days before we left. Also, a lot of my gear was still in the squat, which the police were now watching.

A few days later things cooled down, and they hadn't boarded up the mansion yet so I was able to get back in and grab the gear I left behind. Later that day I was finalizing the route we were taking for hopping to Montreal at the library when I got a surprise visitor. It was Zoe! His parents let him come back to Baltimore, and he was still coming with us to Canada! We were all excited to have him back and our group was now whole again.

Another week passed, and everyone got together their gear and met in front of the library on our last night in Towson before we left for Canada. We had a whopping nine people in our group now and I didn't think we would make it very far with that many people. But we had done it before when we went to Savannah, so maybe we would luck out this time as well. All of our friends showed up to say farewell and it felt like the perfect beginning to what would be an amazing trip. We gave our heartfelt goodbyes to our friends and I noticed how each of us were leaving a signifigant other behind.

Beverly put her grandmother's necklace into the palm of my hand, closing my fingers around it. "I want this back, okay?" she told me. I just smiled, suddenly not wanting to leave, but promising to be back soon. We were all excited about going to Canada and our thoughts lingered on all those we were leaving behind as we drove to the train yard. In a few hours, our train would pull into the yard and we would begin our 5,000 mile journey into the wilderness of Canada...