BUM'S RUSH IN MANHATTAN
39
I undressed. This gaunt man with the prominent Adam's apple
looked at my underwear intently and stretched the knit shirt with the
professional touch peddlers employ when they say, "Nice piece of ·goods."
More half naked and naked men crowded through from other rooms.
The flophouse stench of filthy bodies, filthy clothing and breaths, of
d;sordered stomachs closed in and there was no shaking it.
Most of the men had coughs of- orie sort or another. There wasn't
a moment when two or three weren't clearing their throats. Putrefaction
was in the air even of the shower room. The water ran lukewarm. I did
not use any of the communal soaps and I refused the dirty, long towels.
When I was dry I put my shoes on and stood in line for the main hall
where the beds were assigned. The offi.cial looked me over and pointed
in the general direction of an empty cot.
I had one army blanket to sleep on and one for cover. I wrapped
my shirt around the pillow and lay flat on my back.
A voice asserted dogs have. the same type of lice you find in your own
clothes and the man to the right of me snorted in derision. He said
there's at least three different kinds on people alone and then there's
about forty other species on all kinds of animals, including seals and
elephants. He saId a man in the ·eighteenth century had written a long
poem concerning a louse that was found on a plate of peas served to
George III. All the kitchen help had their heads shaved.
The hell with this place, I said aloud. I drew my shirt from around
the pillow and stuffed it into the bundle. The beds creaked and writhed
and sleepy, whipped eyes followed me <:Iown the hall.
"What's the matter with you?" one of the officials in the anteroom
said, "It's three o'clock."
"I don't like your accomodations."
"What'd you think this was going to be, the Waldorf-Astoria? Sho\-"
your bundle."
He tore the cord and the worn wrappings. All three officials watched
me as I struggled to tie it up again.
"He wanted southern exposure," one said.
"There's a mall inside vomiting. 'Vhy don't you see what's wrong?"
"He's got a pain in the belly for a change, instead of being one," the
first official said.
"You're a bunch of- grafting c- - - en," I said.
All three rose. One of them started for me but another held him
back and said, "Beat it, bum."
