The Art of Couch-Surfing requires having a home base. Having a home base can consist of a bar in which you tipped the bartender reasonably well when times were good, paid your bar-tab in a timely manner and, always and under all circumstance, remembered the two cardinal rules of behavior in a bar: Rule #1; never piss-off the bartender. Rule#2; never forget rule #1. I have an instinct to know and understand the way these things work.
I also understood what is surprisingly blind to most who find themselves in this situation. Most importantly, the first principle is to keep your camps as though you were a Boy Scout in the woods. The Rules:
1. Remember that you are a guest and do all you can to be a most welcome one. Never expect to be entitled to anything; you are a guest after all.
2. Bring something to the occupants like a twelve pack of beer, a line of coke, a joint or even a bag of chips if that’s all you can get.
3. Do the dishes… hell, the laundry too (it is an opportunity to do you own while you are at it).
4. Volunteer to be the designated driver. Be the gofer for groceries and other errands.
5. Bring your own douche bag with razor, tooth brush, soap and shampoo. Never use your host’s personal hygiene items (they will notice this before all else).
6. Clean up your camp like a good Boy Scout (even if you don’t smoke, empty the ashtrays and dump the beer cans on the way out in the trash before you move on. Never allow yourself to sleep later than your host. Get up and out before anyone else in the household.
7. Never wear out your welcome. Rotate: timely rotation is crucial.
I used the bar as though it was my office. I ran errands for the bartenders for a few free drinks but, more importantly, to keep my bar stool without having to buy drinks. I found work there, picking up day labor jobs and to cultivate future couches. It was my diligence in doing these things that kept me out of the bushes, though there were a few times I ended up there. The Rescue Mission and Salvation Army were the only year-round crashes in those days. The National Guard Armory was open to the homeless only in winter months.
I did try to get in a sober-living home, New House, once. I was asked; “Are you willing to go to any lengths to stay sober?”
Thinking honesty would get me a break, I answered, “Hey now, my friend, I don’t have a drinking problem. I might have a few after work, or whatever, but I promise not to drink if you let me in.”
I was not given a bed. At one time or another I broke every one of the Seven Rules of the Art of Couch Surfing and still got by okay. However, undaunted, I knew it was impossible to go hungry, without shelter or without a drink in Santa Barbara as long as I paid attention to the Advanced Art of Couch Surfing, cultivated and applied them even in a half-hazard manner.
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