There was something about being in the open water on a boat. We spent the next few nights in each other’s company, watching the ever so beautiful sunsets and rises being with the perfect person. I told him I wanted to pack my bags and run away with him and he said yes!
I drove straight to Port Richey to the house I was living at with Tiffany. I found an old traveling backpack in my dad’s old camping gear and I filled it up, taking only a few of my sentimental items. Though Tiffany was very clearly upset with me leaving, she didn’t seem particularly surprised by my decision.
By the time I was ready to drive back to Chris his brother and I had taken a bus to Homestead because their mother had gotten into a fight with her boyfriend and she was arrested for domestic violence.
Things not going according to plan seemed like a normal occurrence for these two. They decided we would be spending the winter in the Ocala National forests which would make for the perfect timing to attend the annual Ocala Rainbow Gathering. We made our way to Astor, FL and drove my car deep into the woods until we found a good camp site and pitched our tents.
Those were some pretty magical nights of playing Uno, making love under the stars and learning one another in every capacity. I used to write in my journal every day so I could remember the beauty in getting to know each other.
Once the Gathering was starting to get set up, we moved out camp closer to what they referred to as Welcome Home. Welcome Home was a long entryway lined with old head hippies who welcomed all attendees to the subcamps which were Good Morning, Vietnam! that served pancakes and make black drop coffee in the morning. There was another camp that had beautiful topless women serving shroom tea and another one filled with schwilly kids (dirty kids who drank and used drugs) and my absolute favorite Mama and the Babies which was a more laid back and less troublesome atmosphere.
We set up our camp between Welcome Home and Mama and the Babies and we referred to it as Hydration Station. Every day or so I’d drive into town and fill up massive water jugs or mini water buffalos so we could help hydrate passerbys water to and from camps.
Chris and I didn’t really venture out much. We entertained guests, played a ton of Uno, watched programs with TJ on our little phones. The air was crisp, the nights excruciatingly cold. It wasn’t uncommon for Chris and I to decide, “fuck this” and warm up in the car.
It took me until Valentine’s Day because I was too shy and unsure of myself. But, I finally got the courage enough to ask Chris if I was his girlfriend. I wrote the question to him in a notebook like I was in high school and he replied, “well, duh!”
We got our tax returns not too long after that. I claimed Michael on my taxes and got a nice little chunk of change back. We were getting pretty burnt out from being in Ocala and decided to head to Denver, CO to stay at a commune in the city.
Chris’ brother TJ, spent years previous to me meeting him as a train hopping, dirty crust punk. Hitchhiking across America and hopping on and off trains as they passed by. He had this plan where we’d be spending the bare minimum on gas on our way out west by doing something called gas jugging. Gas jugging is when you park your car outside of a busy gas station like a Pilot or Love’s with an empty gas can and collect donations. I’m not going to lie I was rather pessimistic about it myself, but sure enough I barely came out of pocket for gas our entire trip.
Marti Gras 2015 was on February 17 and we just happened to drive by as it was popping off so we decided to make a pit stop. We walked throughout downtown and made our way to Bourbon Street where Chris ordered him and I the famous Grenade drink. We peed down alleys and after finalizing my investigation of the city I let TJ drive us out of there because I was feeling the buzz.
We slept in Walmart parking lots because they’re the safest places to sleep overnight with all their security cameras and heavily lit parking lots. TJ would always take his sleeping bag and sleep outside since they were below 0 sleeping bags, even in the snow all the way to Albuquerque, NM.
Right at the New Mexico/Colorado border my car decided it was time to take a shit on us. On the highway, stranded I came up with the brilliant idea to call AAA and have them tow us to Denver — 300 miles. I was allowed to get towed 100 miles a day and 300 miles total. So day one we spent in Pueblo, day two in Colorado Springs and then our final destination to Denver. It worked out perfect!
In Denver, we stayed in a duplex type of home with a large basement the size of the whole house. I was able to junk my car for $250, without the title. In the house we had CJ and Terrance upstairs with Scrawberry and Laura Love who was pregnant and her little toddler, Tranquil running around. Down in the basement was a makeshift bedroom for Chris and I, TJ, two other hippy guys, the young lesbian couple and the young southern runaway couple that had a baby on the way. In the duplex over we had the other Laura with her two little girls and the owner. We definitely had a full house. It was snowing outside with small blizzards every few days.
This is where I learned how to panhandle. We used the money from my taxes and from scrapping my car to pay for our room and board and marijuana habit. I’d hold signs that read, “betcha can’t hit me with a cheese burger” and “hungry, broke traveling folk” and I had the time of my life
One morning there was a bunch of commotion upstairs in the bathroom. There was apparently someone, unresponsive in the bathroom, locked inside. Both of the pregnant ladies had already been waiting a long time before deciding to grab some help. From outside the porch Skrawberry cracked open the bathroom window and weaseled himself inside.
One of the cute lesbian dirty kids from down in the basement had shot up heroin and laid motionless and her body the shade of blue I will never be able to forget.
Chris and I jumped into action, he hurried and called 911 and I ran over to attempt CPR. As I squeezed her nose and blew a forceful breath into her lungs, I felt the air escaping her once compressions started. She was dead, and probably had been for a while now. I couldn’t save her, no one could. Her blue, lifeless body and the sound of the air escaping her as the air I pushed into her immediately billowed out of her, as fast as I pushed it in. That memory will never leave me.
I believe this was the first real traumatic event in my adult life. I spent days afterwards experiencing intense panic attacks and crying spells. Laura, the mother of the two girls nextdoor performing crystal therapy and white magic to cure my anxiety.
Chris and I decided it was time for us to move on and we started planning our way back East to join the carnival that he worked for before he met me
In April of 2015 we took a Greyhound bus to Florence SC where Amusements of America held their winter quarters.
Allie Willey 