It only seems fitting that I begin my story here, the day that I checked into a room at the Stanley Hotel located at 36 Blood Alley Square, Vancouver, BC, Canada.
And, it only seems fitting because it is such a dirty, fucking sinkhole into the abyss of Vancouver's abhorrent underground derelict drug addict scene that my story would seem to fit in here somehow. By that time in my life I had been smoking crystal meth for probably at least two years. And, the skid road hotel was the last stop for tenants who had been evicted from other social services buildings before.
In it there were very little rules to differentiate it from living outdoors. You were able to bring all of your found junk from back alleys and wherever into your room with you. There were no safety checks. No security. And, if you wanted to you could have probably carried a loaded shotgun in one hand and a hand grenade in the other up to your room from outside and nobody would have stopped you. You were also able to freely smoke or take or shoot your favorite drugs of choice inside your own hotel room and there were no questions.
I had been warned so many times, by some of the most ruthless street dealers and hustlers and even hardened cons not to ever come here. There were murderers that lived here. People disappeared from here. Women were often killed here. I was told that the Stanley Hotel was for psychopaths only.
The ancient building itself has quite a history too. Being once that it was the slaughterhouse of pigs whose blood ran so thick down the then dirt alley that they named it so. And, also that it had once been a prison.
I was so high on crystal meth the day I checked in, that when the form asked for a reference to the hotel, I named put the name, Satan the Devil.
And, I had met the Devil, at least through my eyes, in a man downtown called. Merc whose pronunciation of his name rhymes with purse. They called him this because if you ever had a problem with him the last thing coming out of your mouth would have have been you screaming for mercy. But, you would have never been able to get the whole word out of your both before he finished you off. Hence the word Merc. And, whenever he was around there were a lot of people screaming his name out loud.
But, I liked Merc. We had great opportunities to talk then. And, I have always enjoyed all of my conversations with Merc.
You have it right. I can not image how anyone could eat a meal at one of those fine eating establishments when a few feet from those kitchens is one of the nost disgusting places on earth. People are dying of drug over doses, drugs are bought and sold to the most depraved human element in North America unchecked by the Vancouver police. The Stanley Hotel is as close to hell on earth as one could imagine.
ReplyDeleteIt is Kind of neat to here someone talk about where I use to live. I lived there for four years and it is all true what you say. The smell is horrid the bathrOoms were so nasty I lived there as a teenage girl I was lucky. Ecause the people that mattered Protected me. Murce was a character for sure. He broke my x boyfriends nose pleanty of times I liked him though. He lived off fear of others. I have watch death their I have even had a friend hang himself. Terrible what doPe does. Even after being clan 8 years I still feel the effects. I left a big part of myself there.Also when I lives there I never paid 1 cent for rent.
ReplyDeleteAnybody missing a bmx bike?? hahahahaha
ReplyDeleteI used to get high there with cody,kristen, chicken, shoosh,gold tooth, kify, chains,russ, angel, and many others who are probably dead now.
those were my people's
Deletehaaa kifey i know well had a kid with him... most of them are alive
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