I lived under a bridge in the Bronx for a few weeks, with a homeless basehead named Norman... Well... I was homeless too, for a little while... Cops had tried to hold me down and cuff me for a good minute before my ass got loose, they were arresting me in my own home, I was so angry I just wanted to drop one of those pigs. The plan was for the cops to get me cuffed then throw me in a van and ship my ass off to Rikers (I had been previously arrested for possesion with intent, etc)... Luckily I got away, ran down the fucking stairs, opened my basement door and ran out the back way into the courtyard, I hopped a big wood fence only to realize I was in a contruction zone, so I ran across jumped the other fence and ran down the block to the riverside and ducked under a bridge with my man norman (I knew him previously, we'd be giving him a puff of our L if we was chilling under the bridge sometimes) It was definitely one of the hardest times in my but he's a cool cat, always stayed looking out for me if I dozed off, every night I stayed there i learned to sleep with one eye open... you never know what kinda base heads creep around in them parts especially durin the night... I remember waking up several times to a woman flailing around buggin on meth... bad times, indeed... But it taught me something I will never forget