that was another way , i realized , that i felt superior to easterners who might have frowned on a mexican and an old american hobo sharing swigs from the same bottle , even in the relative privacy of an early morning vacant lot , whereas that was ordinary stuff to us ; there was only one nationality among hobos , and many of them , though not all , werent reluctant to mix in with mexicans if they passed through town ; in the winter the fringes of downtown cities across the southwest , especially the railroad easements , were practically nothing but masses of hobos and their sparkling , litter strewn camps could be glimpsed through a veil of creosote bushes , twinkling across the light pink dirt .