Hobo'in At Home

So I joined this website. You know… the one where you can have travelers come and sleep on your couch. Or in my case, because I lack a couch of any kind, surf the sofas of others. My kinda website. So I sent out some requests to crash. But it was Christmas and everyone was away for the holidays. And no one got back to me.

Bummer.

But on one lovely girl’s profile I see that her house has a facebook page. I check it out. Seems like a nice, communal, hippie sort of joint. My kinda joint. So, like, I write down the address.

I go. I went. Had a ride I couldn’t pass up.
My mother.

She drops me downtown. Cute little city, Saskatoon. I’m seeing the sights, you know; the river, the bridges, cafes, coffee after coffee, Broadway, bookstores, that kinda thing. My kinda thing.

So I got ma sea-bag over ma shoulder, walking the streets, wandered into an old fire-hall turned bar. (no pole, bummer) I have a pint, start leaning on the table like the other drunks, writing haiku in my moleskine, unlike the other drunks, when the petitest gal walks up, points at ma sea-bag in the corner and says in a charming French lilt, “Are you travelling?”

So she and her mate are driving across the grand country of Canada and they too, belong to this website, and they too, have had no luck finding a place to stay. Seems everyone with an open door policy in this little Toontown is away.

So we drink.

We get along. Splendidly
Ah, the French.

I tell them I got the address for this house. Just a shot in the dark, but shit, beats sleep’in in their car. (got Christmas lights strung all through it, real road tripp’in car.) My kinda car.

Yeah, we went to the house. We knocked. No answer. All the lights were out. Dark, dark house. Dark, dark street.

So we just start knocking on doors.
Rejections mostly.

“Merry Christmas, but…no”

Got the address for the Salvation Army shelter, but no girls allowed. French or not.

Then, the house, that dark, dark house, lights up, isn’t so dark anymore.

Door opens. Dude named River: “Sure people crash here all-the-time.”

And so the rest is all wine and cheese and late night dancing and guitar songs and stupid youtube clips and laughter.

And yeah… There ya go, eh?