Story time

Years ago, early in my struggle with meth, I had this idea of moving to Montreal for a fresh start. At the time, I had a studio apartment on Isabella St-a place that my dad's employer helped me secure as part of my parents' employment contract. I was paying $500/mo. Anyway, I had been struggling with sobriety, and, so, I just packed a suitcase one day and took a bus to Montreal, with my pipe and a bag of t in my pocket, with very little money on hand.

This would've been around Jun of 2005. The reason why I can pinpoint the month and year was because I remember watching the House of Commons vote on the equal marriage legislation, during this trip in Montreal. You see, once I arrived in the city, I went to the National Library and surfed the net, looking for hook ups. Eventually, I met a graduate international student who let me stay at his apartment. That's where I watched the vote. The guy was nice by letting me stay at his place, but he eventually asked me to leave.

For days, I walked around Montreal, my suitcase in tow. After a few days, my t had run out and hunger caught up. I had not eaten for days. I hung out at the bus terminal overnight. Outside of the terminal, there was one of those big balloons in a man's figure that was used as marketing for a nearby store. As the stick figure flopped side by side because of the wind, I watched from inside the terminal thinking it was a giant person moving. I was mesmerized by its dance.

The following day, weakened by desperation, I asked the security guard if he can point me to the nearest hospital.

"Why?"

"I'm hungry but I don't have any money."

He told me to go with him as he walked to the other side of the terminal, where a restaurant was serving food. He went in and talked to the person in charge, who gestured me to come in and sit at a table.

"Here you go," the man said, settling a plate full of food in front of me, with him sitting across from me. I don't remember what we talked about, but I remember riding the subway with him, back to his place. When we got there, his girlfriend greeted us, and they continued talking in French.

Somehow, I found myself in their balcony, where a soft couch was situated, looking out onto the street. I sat down, and I must have passed out, but the next thing I remember was waking up, in a fetal position on the balcony couch. I think this must've been early evening.

Well-rested, the man took me back to the bus terminal where I phoned my family, letting them know where I was at. I asked my little brother if he can buy my ticket back home. My sweet ading (Ilocano for younger sibling) made no hesitations.