Homeless In NYC

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 I came to NYC after living on the streets of Philadelphia for a month and a half. I came initially to visit another Zoomer. This zoomer and I had a strange connection. We had a connection because he was from Asheville, North Carolina. I lived in Asheville before I moved to Orlando, Florida. His name on Zoom was TheArtist828, 828 being the area code for Asheville. This is what made me first ever reach out to him. He told me that he moved from Asheville to NYC. We exchanged phone numbers and made plans for me to come and visit him while the guy who's place he stayed at, was out of town.

    It was a three hour train ride.

    When I got into the city, I called him and started heading his direction. He lived in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. This was my first time actually trying to navigate to somewhere specific in New York. I ended up getting on the wrong direction train that would bring me into Brooklyn. Nailed it. I ended up getting off the train a few stops past the Penn Station station. Turned myself around. And started my commute correctly. 

    When I showed up at his apartment, he answered the door and greeted me with a hug. He took me downstairs. Finally I was able to smoke and get comfortable. It was October, so it was chilly outside. I took off my jacket and shoes. TheArtist proceeded to hand me a bong and we started to get high together. That was what we did for the next day. We went on Zoom and got high. 

    The next day, I decided to go out and go for a walk and get cigarettes. I left by myself. When I arrived back and rang the door bell, There was no answer. I kept ringing. I ended up to start calling TheArtist. He didn't answer his phone. I texted him. He didn't reply. There I was, locked out. With just my satchel. None of my other belonging. Not my giant purple suitcase.

    A couple hours later, he replied to me. Told me that he wasn't there. He went and met up with someone else. Rude. I had nowhere to go. So I didn't. I just walked around Williamsburg for a few hours. And to my luck, it started raining. 

    When he eventually showed up, he told me that I had to leave because the guy who's apartment it actually was, was on his way home now. 

    So, there I was. Homeless in NYC. With a giant purple suitcase. Wet.

    I took the train into the back into the city. I got off in Chinatown. I wandered around for a little bit. I was scared out of my mind. I was high, but coming down. Every sound scared me. Every person scared me. So, I decided to go lay down somewhere. I eventually find a Chinese bookstore that was closed. So I laid down on their stoop, and shivered myself to sleep.

    Then around 9am, I get awoken up by the owner of the bookstore. He's very polite to me. He offered me a cup of coffee. I declined. He also offered me some advice to go and get put in the system at the Human Resources Administration (HRA). There they would be able to get me into a shelter. He told me where to go and I took his advice and went.

    I arrived finally to HRA on 14th street. I went inside and waited. 

    Eventually I get seen and interviewed. After a few hours, I get informed that I am being granted emergency food stamps, cash assistance, healthcare, and housing. I had no idea all of this was what was going to happen. But it did. And it did because I have HIV. I got approved for benefits from the government and HASA, a program for HIV positive people.

    I moved into the SRO that night.

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