Christmas Time In Toronto
Toronto was a "speed city." Everybody on the street did speed. I
never did understand how people got hooked on the needle, but in
Toronto I met people who would mainline anything. I met girls who
mainlined ejaculated sperm just to see what would happen. Some
drugees, after the veins in their arms gave out, shot up in their
feet, ankles, legs, neck, and tongue. The headline in Toronto's main
newspaper read, "20,000 Estimated On Speed," that pretty much said
it all.
As I got to know more of the people, it seemed everybody at the
Diggers had a story to tell, but the chick who told the mainlining
story still stood out. Her back story was that three months earlier,
after a two year stint in the Newfoundland penitentiary, she was release,
and then started shooting up the speed that she is now trying kick.
What I was witnessing was her coming off the drug. Her first night at the
Diggers wasn't too bad, but her second night was pure hell. One of
the two people looking after her went to a free clinic to get some
downs (Secinal). Roshdale, the building where the free clinic was
located, was an experimental treatment center set up by university
students to help people on drugs. Doctors were on staff, but the
students did most of the work. The cat came back from Roshdale with
a handful of downs and gave two pills to the chick. After she calmed
down a little he gave her another one. I suppose, after a week or
so, she would be mainlining speed all over again. Kicking the habit
in an environment like this was probably impossible.
After a day of walking the streets and trying to figure out what I
was going to do with the rest of my life, I decided to check out the
addresses in my pocket. I figured, "What the hell, if I like Canada
and Canada likes me then I guess I'm home!" The next day, I went to
the House of American Exiles to see how to make Canada my permanent
home. This place was a refuge for American draft dodgers and
deserters. This was also a place where you could get free clothing,
food, and make arrangements for a place to stay. The information I
was after though, was not available here, for that kind of
information I had to go downtown to where a branch of the House of
American Exiles had their legal counseling. Upon arrival, I found
the place busy and had to wait my turn. When my turn came, I quickly
found out that Canada didn't give away residence cards to just
anybody. A grading system was in place, a system based on how
productive you would be for Canada. After my assets were counted, my
production potential was next to nil.
I felt myself slipping into depression. I knew that if I went back
to the Diggers things would only get worse, so I headed in the
opposite direction. If I walked long enough I hoped my fatigue would
make the depression go away. I must have looked as despondent as I
felt because when I finally did get back, this cat came up to me and
tried to cheer me up. He wasn't a resident, though. He was just
visiting, and had an apartment not far from away. When he first
arrived in Toronto, he stayed at the Diggers.
I did a lot of walking while in Toronto. It was cold, sometimes
biting cold, but that made it even more enjoyable. (When I wasn't
walking, I was reading my book; the chapter on Hobbs was my
favorite). Toronto's City Hall was beautiful; the whole structure
was absolutely marvelous architecture. Twin towers joined by a
flying saucer shaped building comprised the main structure of the
building, while giant arches that stretched over an outdoor ice rink
greeted you at the approach to the building. Night was a good time
to watch the skaters because scores of colored lights lit up the ice
rink and the strategically placed loudspeakers provided excellent
music. I would watch the skaters waltz to the sweet sound of the
music for hours at a time.
Toronto was getting ready for Christmas and the joy of the people
on the street was contagious. Whenever I walked down Yonge Street
with its window displays, or down Blur Street with its glowing
yellow streetlights, I couldn't help but pick up on some of that
Christmas spirit. The two main department stores, Eatons and
Simsons, decorated their windows with moving Christmas puppets. Each
window had scores of puppets acting out different Christmas themes.
Trying to protect myself from the cold while watching these puppets
made me forget my troubles, at least for a little while. At night, I
would walk the Strip and stare at the chicks and the freaks. When I
got cold I would walk up Blur Street and go into Zumburger.
Zumburger was a restaurant with a cozy atmosphere. The best part
though, in addition to the good music (a lot of Dylan), was that you
could sit at a quaint little table, smoke cigarettes, and drink
coffee without the management getting uptight. That, for me, was
heaven.
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