Homeless in Taiwan: The Worst & Best Moment of My Life

My banjo stayed in her case.

My troubles draped over my shoulders.

Hope filled my heart. Fear covered my face.

Train Station Lady Boys & Bums After a LONG Trip Back to The Zhongli

My eyes stared at my feet.  The kid behind me kicked the back of my seat.

My eyes kept staring at my feet.

The bus let me out.

Where to now? Zhongli? My contacts can get me cash.

The train ride took four hours. I popped  two cold Taiwan beers.

I slugged  through the hallway.

I knew the ladyboy busking for tips. The ladyboy sang  “Hotel California.”

My ears shrieked.

The lady boy's commitment to move to New York City flopped. 

Whiskey and mild disappointment helped my friend discover she was a lady boy.

The lady boy's eyes locked on mine. She finished "Hotel Calfiornia."

 I didn’t have a home. I didn’t have a job. 

I still could not squeeze these awkward pleasantries into my schedule.

I wanted to get to The River Bar. You can find The River Bar in Zhongli. I used to drink there.

Before The River Bar, I walked past empty bottles of KaoLiang, (cheap Taiwanese rice wine) and empty sleeping bags. A distinct odor festered the hallways.

I walked past these men and women. These men and women rested their eyes at 7:30 p.m. The noise of footsteps and stopping trains combined to rumble the building every eight minutes. These men and women’s eyes remained closed.

Unknowing to me, my life prepared to sleep by their side.

 At The River, my instincts told me people would be happy to see me there. When you spend two months living with somebody, and hating each other, in a small town, any dose of familiarity helps.

My Love, Taiwan Beer…

My troubles remained draped over my shoulder. Inside the bag of troubles, I had my clean clothes.

I also had my last remaining connection to the outside world, my broken laptop

People stood in front of me at 7-11. Some ordered coffee. Others paid their bills.

I plopped four Taiwan Beers up on the counter. Let it begin!

Long Time No See- Coach Patrick & Sammy The Douchebag

Sammy the Douchebag (STD) and Coach Patrick (CP) sat at the same 7-11 table two months ago when I left, The Zhongli.

Coach Patrick (CP)  offered unsolicited advice about sports, women, and boozing

Coach Patrick (CP) lived in The Zhongli for twenty years. CP lived the typical married expat lifestyle. He ran a buxiban with his wife. He liked money. His wife loved to work. He hated her. End of story.

CP sometimes talked about other things besides his wife he hated.

CP bragged often. CP bragged about his High School hockey team.  

CP never coached an organized sport a day in his life.  CP thought that today’s kids couldn’t handle his aggressiveness.

CP offered unsolicited advice about sports, women, and boozing.

CP had just gotten out of the hospital. Coach Patrick drank too much.

Sammy The Douchebag (STD) and CP drank at this 7-11 because The Zhongli bar owners did not allow STD into their drinking establishments.

An average night in the bar for STD flirted with getting his teeth knocked into an empty bottle of Taiwan beer three times.

Introducing DG #3

I didn’t know the third member of their crew.

I walked outside with my bag of troubles, and a four pack of Taiwan Beer. I sat down at their table without asking.

I couldn’t choose my friends. I had none.

STD never bothered me. I drank with him on several occasions. If people saw me drinking with STD, they normally motioned like: Get the fuck out of there.

STD's  arrogance (for no reason) amused me.

The dynamically arrogant duo (CP &STD) asked where the fuck have I been. I just said you don’t want to know, and left it at that.

One minute passed.

We talked about me getting married two months ago.

CP sat beer-less.  CP told me: “What you need to do is find one of these Hakka girls, you see they like to save their money. So, you can marry one of them.  She watches your money, and you can run your own school. That’s it. It’s easy. You’ll make easy, 60 -70k (NTD/ 200USD) in a month.”

In the midst of extreme arrogance, and also at the end of a horrific depression, (for myself) I found the humor in continuing to ignite CP’s advice.

I used Larue’s (my dad's) old standby. I nodded my head yes every minute, “No kidding. Yeah, you’re right. I should do that. It’s time to marry a financially responsible women.”

I didn’t mention that I didn’t want to hate my wife, and my life. I also didn’t tell CP that I can make that money in a public school. I can also work 8 to 4 with no stress, and no wife.

CP kept telling me how much money I could make. He made it sound like I would go home at night and just throw bills up in the air, and roll around in them.

I never saw the third degenerate before.  His six foot five body slouched in his 7-11 lawn chair. He knocked back the beers. He choked down a cigar. He didn’t talk, YET.

STD saw my eyes. He must have thought I must be dying to know about his sex life.

STD went into his usual rant, “ Fuck these Taiwanese bitches. All they care about is finding someone with money.”

I pulled the Larue trick.  I ignited him with my best, “No kidding.” With all my might, I pretended to care.

Really, I just wanted to hear the next part of his rant.

Hook, line, and sinker, 

STD thought I cared.  “Well, you see Josh. I will tell you the truth. These Taiwanese bitches don’t like me because I’m fat, and I smoke. “

Just like a girl calling you out on your bullshit, I went: “Hmmm. I see”

Exercise never popped into STD's head. He preferred to play the victim.

Taiwan Beer #5 for the day slid down the back of my throat.

In this mosh-pit of degenerates, I started to begin my story. I wanted to tell them how I executed a 20 minute break-up. I also wanted to tell them I have no place to go, and no job. I also wanted to tell them that I only have three crumbled up one thousand dollar bills (USD 100) in my pockets. 

I also wanted to tell them that I have access to NO other money. I also wanted to tell them that my landlord that I skipped town on my last month’s rent is probably looking for me.

Taiwan Beer #5 slid me right into the degenerate mosh-pit.

Are You Gay? –Go Fuck Yourself

Before I cracked Taiwan Beer #6, DG# 3 interrupted my story.

DG #3: “Let me ask you (me) a question. Are you gay? “

Me:  (Thinking- I’m going to spend the rest of the night thinking about murdering this guy) I shook my head, as DG #3 interrupted me. “Excuse me, what is your name by the way?”

DG #3 “It’s cool if you are man. I just want to know if you’re gay. “

Me: “Ok before your break my balls and act like a complete dick, tell me your name at least.”

DG #3  “ I’m Dirk. I have lived here twenty three years.  Here in Zhongli. I make Sail Boats for a living. My business is worth $500,000 US Dollars. “

Me:  (Thinking- Right, you’re drinking at 7-11 with the town degenerates.) “ No Dirk, I’m not gay.”

Dirk The MotherFucker: “ No man, I’m totally cool with it.  I just want to know , are you gay? You talk with a lisp, and the way you present yourself,  I just want to know are you gay.”

I previously only raised my voice at two other people. 

A fraternity guy tried to instill a rule I couldn’t go to another fraternity’s party. I threw my hat and said this fraternity shit is gay.  

Another guy smoked a cigarette in my beloved Washington Redskins chair. I told him:” That’s it. I draw the line, HERE!”

Me: “Ok Dirk.  You asked me once.  Fair enough. I’m wearing what I call board shorts. If I was 50 and never left Zhongli, the flowers on them might be a little questionable.  But, I told you, NO. That’s the last time you’re going to ask me that question. Got it? “

CP knows I can be a bit of a bitch. I once let a 19 year old Taiwanese kid on a scooter intimidate me.

CP looked at me like, “ FUCK,,,YEAH” shut this motherfucker up

CP looked over at Dirk The Motherfucker. CP'S eyes told Dirk The Motherfucker to shut up.

Dirk The Motherfucker choked down some more of his cigar.

Dirk The Motherfucker: “It’s cool.”

Me: “ Don’t even think about it. I asked you nicely to stop. Now, I’m getting fucking pissed.”

I’m dying a bit inside my head. I’m also proud.

Dirk The Motherfucker had no idea I had been trading emotional blows with Baby Godzilla round the clock for the last two months. Dirk the Motherfucker didn’t know that I had no money. I had no phone. 

I had no computer. I had no home. I had no place to live.

I had nothing to lose. I could have ate this guy’s eye balls with soy sauce and been happy about a night’s sleep in jail.

Dirk The Motherfucker’s desperate pleas to get me to come out of the closet eventually dwindled.  

DTM was still tossing the beers back. He sometimes could not resist.

His head would pop up as he looked at my shorts. His mouth would start to open.  

Then, I  would glare at Dirk The Motherfucker. Then, he would change the topic to his business.

Dirk The Motherfucker eventually shut up about his sail boats, and it’s ok if I’m gay rants.

I exited my safe zone of listening to Coach Patrick, STD, and Dirk The Motherfucker ramble. I dove back into the degenerate-soaked mosh pit.

They wanted to hear my mess as much as I wanted to hear STD pity himself into a stupor about why Taiwanese girls don’t like fat guys.

So…

Ignoring Dirk The Motherfucker. 

Me: “ Well guys, you see. I left my ex-girlfriend in 20 minutes this morning. The shit storm brewed for two months. I finally snapped. I left. Now, I’m going back to America.”

STD pleaded for me to stay. STD informed me his recruiter had many public school jobs available. STD  knew my sub teaching cert would get me a job in a public school.

I laughed at STD.

Baby Godzilla shattered my heart into a million pieces. Then, she kept stomping on the shattered pieces. I needed to go home.

Self-Love By The Washing Machine

Baby Godzilla (my ex) caught me at 9:00.

Baby G never used to sleep.  Baby G took on new projects at any hour of the day. She translated docs from Chinese to English. She worked all night so she didn’t have to talk to me. She also didn’t like when I tried to cuddle her when she went to bed.

Baby G worked with the lights on all night. I never told her to turn off the lights.

Baby G started coming to bed about 5:00 a.m.  I tried to cuddle her one night. Baby G started coming to bed at 6 a.m.  Her 10 cats prowled around the upstairs of the house. Her four dogs that she didn’t know shit about taking care of prowled around the sleeping room.

Waking up, I was guaranteed to step into a pit of cat puke, puppy shit, and a few of Baby G’s hairs on the floor.

Baby G still had one on me. She found the house. She paid for the initial renovations.

The dude pounded on the door. Baby G slept on the fourth floor. If the dude could just stop pounding on the door, I could finish.

I stood in front of the washer. The door hooked shut on the latch. A person could see what I was doing if they had a ladder. I hadn’t been serviced in two long months.  

The dude pounded on the door again. I couldn’t stop. It was too late. The boys exploded on the floor.

The dude turned up the intensity on his door pounding.

Shimano (named after the fishing pole) unleashed his warning shot.  Her steps, and his steps tracked down the final flight of stairs.

I was fucked. 

I tried to clean the boys. The mess worsened.

Baby G came back to the door,  “ Umm..  Josh, what the fuck are you doing? Didn’t you hear the guy knocking on the door?”

I told her I was taking a shit.

It came to this. I made up stories about taking a shit, while I jerked off behind the washer, so I could avoid the wrath of Baby G.

I powered through nine more days of agony with Baby G. I spent most of my days strategically placing my passport out of her sight. I had this rancid fear of her stealing my passport. I knew I was going to wonder off into the night. I just didn’t know when.

Angry Gus- Give Me Your CC# Before I Kill Baby G

I talked in a married guy style whisper. I thought she was listening. I knew she was sleeping.

I still thought she could hear me.

Me: “Hey Man.  I need your fucking credit card number. I got to get out of here. It’s not good.”

Angry Gus: Laughing “ Wait what. Why do I need to give you my credit card?”

About 15 years ago,  Angry Gus bought a house. I didn’t have a drop of credit card debt. I drove a company car. I  spent money as hard as I could.

At the end of the month, I always had $2,000 USD in the bank

Angry Gus had just bought a house.

The US economy went to shit. He was a bartender.  His interest rate kept skyrocketing.

He used to call me right around the 15^th of the month. I could hear the fear in his voice when the phone rang.

Truth is, I didn’t give a shit. A friend of mine once said money means nothing to me. I can’t coin the phrase as my own.  I support his attitude.

Besides, he would tell me the exact date he could pay me back. I never even remotely worried that he would not pay me back.

Angry Gus often talked about how much he appreciated me lending him the money when he got drunk.

Truth is, I didn’t even like when Angry Gus talked about the money. It was so irrelevant to me.

Me: “ I’m serious man. I might fucking kill her. Every time I look at her chubby ass hanging off the bed, I think about slaughtering that chubby ass into pieces. I might just fucking kill her man.”

Angry Gus: “Ok Jesus Christ.  Stop talking like that. You’re killing me. You don’t know who is listening.”

I hadn’t talked to Angry Gus in about six months.  Angry Gus thinks I live in Thailand.

Ok, I got to calm down, and at least tell him this story.

Me: “Angry Gus, you got to get me the fuck out of here man. I have no fucking money. I’m scared man. I’m really fucking scared man. I’m going to be on the street.”

I didn’t calm down.

Angry Gus: “Ok man. Let me see if I can clear some money off my credit card. How much you need? “

Me: “700 would get me out of here tomorrow. 500 would get me out of here in two weeks. But, I might be on the street before those two weeks are up. “

Angry Gus: “Jesus Man. Ok. I’ll clear seven, and send you the credit card numbers later. “

The bad news came. Angry Gus only cleared 500. I couldn’t leave this hell hole even if I wanted to.

The fights, and the temporary make up badges went on in circles.

We played the hate each other on Monday & Tuesday, break up on Wednesday, patching things up on Saturday game for another two weeks.

One Saturday morning, I finally snapped.

I escaped Baby G via the Fenggang Bus Stop and went back to The Zhongli. 

I started Taiwan in Zhongli. I called it The Zhongli to be funny.

Going Back to America- Hold ON until Thursday

I plowed through almost the remaining wad of  (NTD 3000/ USD 100) by Monday morning.

I stayed Saturday night, and Sunday night at a Filipino love motel (by myself) 

The hotel offered a free breakfast buffet. I lined my pockets with peanut butter & nutella sandwiches to hold me over for the day.

If my contacts couldn't get me sub work on Monday, I had no choice but to sleep on the street Monday night.

I had nobody to call. I had NOTHING.

Angry Gus' credit card purchased the flight. I prepared to leave on Thursday.

Somehow, I remembered the phone number to my contacts that can get me cash.  I didn't even know pay phones still existed. 

 My heart pounded. Scooters whizzed past on the street like normal. I punched all ten digits into the payphone.

By some miracle, my contacts had substitute teaching work for me that afternoon. 

Substitute teaching work pays cash by the day. That meant I saved myself one more day of sleeping on the street.

I got to the gate of the sub school. The owner apologized. The school no longer needed me that afternoon.

Somehow, the owner knew another school that needed a sub. I went right to the other school.

They paid me enough money for a hotel for Monday night. 

Ok, I just need to pull this off until I leave on Thursday morning.

The e-mail came in while I sat at the Filipino love motel (by myself) lobby computer. Angry Gus' credit card had been denied. 

Jesus Fucking Christ, I am in a world of shit now. The sub job offered work for the week. The stress of nowhere to live, and only making enough money to cover my hotel expenses for the day nearly killed me.

Ok- Sammy The Douchebag Comes To The Rescue

I had no choice but to go to Plan B. I checked the e-mail from STD.  It said " ___ city gov't job, experience require, sub cert. ok."

Ok, I got to go for this. I sent the resume.

 I had nowhere to live. I had no phone. I had no laptop. I still had to go for it. Oh, and I had no money. And, I (for some reason) didn't know about AirBnB or Couchsurfing.

I marched to the payphone again on Tuesday morning. I didn't have time to wait for the recruiter to call me back. The recruiter couldn't call me back. The payphone kept sucking up my money without connecting to the recruiter. As the Taiwanese say, "that is not very convenient." 

On a normal day, a few coins down the payphone hatch don't present a problem.  Today, I slammed the pay phone off the ringer.

Finally, Jack answered the phone. Jack spoke perfect English. My heart beat four notches lower.  I didn't have to give my elevator pitch in Chinese. I had been giving my elevator pitch for the last two months in Chinese. 

I broke into almost every elementary school in Pingtung County looking for work for the last two months. I told teachers to get me the principal because I had an interview. 

None of the principals spoke English. I had to tell the principals  in horrible and broken Chinese, " I have been working in Taiwan for 3 years. I know I can help your students improve their English conversation ability. How do we form a partnership for your students' success in the upcoming school year?"

I even broke into an exclusive Kenting resort in shorts and sandals. I made my way to the see Executive V.P. of Marketing. I pitched my marketing skills (in Chinese) to him on the fly. 

I am still waiting for that return phone call.

Jack lined me up with an interview for a school in Tainan on the spot. 

I had to buy a pair of pants forty-five minutes before the interview. I had to pay $3USD to lock my bag (all of my belongings) in the train station while I went to the interview. 

I lived in the hotel for one more month. I subbed almost every day. I broke even for the month. 

I got the job.

Wrap-Up

A good friend of mine from college, Bummer, loved the Grateful Dead. 

Bummer also loved hearing about celebrities stories. He used to tell me everyone of the celebrities had the same story. They all went ass-up at some point. Bummer also said the celebrities thought this was one of the most freeing moments of their lives. Bummer's words stuck with me for fifteen years. 

I fought for two months teeth and nail with a woman (Baby G) I loved dearly. 

Many of our fights revolved around I wanted to spend at least 2-3 years teaching in a Public School. I hated all three years teaching the private schools. I couldn't stop teaching without knowing what it was like to teach in a Public School.

 Baby G thought about the future. Baby G wanted me to make more money than a Public School teacher's salary.

I offer you this perspective. Many hopes, goals and dreams in our lives pass us by. We think that we can't do it. We think we can't do it because we don't give up the person we currently are. We don't die off our current identity. 

If you're walking through the train station, if you're counting the hours until you will be sleeping with the bums, you will march on to victory.

Imagination can get you to a goal. If you have a goal, imagine you're walking through the train station counting down the hours until you're sleeping with the bums. I imagine if you work at that goal like if you don't make it you will sleep with the bums you will reach that goal.

Rant over...

Thanks for listening!