I'm standing in line at North of Brooklyn pizza in Toronto, carrying a pair of beat up boots I haven't worn in years. A bespectacled dude who looks like Yung Morrissey if Moz was a health goth into rap greets me from behind the counter with a knowing look. "Oh, hey man," he says. "Connor?" I ask in return. I recognize him from his Facebook profile picture.

I pass Connor my old boots over the counter, and in exchange he hands over a six pack of Boneshaker beer and a handful of transit tokens. Both of those fuckers have been killing my budget since moving to Toronto a few weeks prior. "Want some pizza?" Connor asks. Hell yeah, I do. As I'm leaving, piping hot slice of margherita in hand, I hear his similarly garbed coworker ask him what just happened. "Remember that thing I was telling you about?" Connor replies, "Bum's Trading Zone?"

Bum's Trading Zone is a Facebook group, strictly speaking, but it can feel a bit like a secret club that everyone you know or wish you knew is a member of. During my first few months in Toronto, it seemed like almost everyone I met at a show, bar, or record store used it as a conversation piece at least once. Asking, "Where'd you get that?" was often followed by, "Oh, Bum's—have you heard of it?" along with a story about an awesome or weird trade they'd recently locked down.

Bum's Trading Zone is like Craigslist for people who slam perennial Canadian shitbeer Old Style Pilsner.

A closed group containing more than 3000 of Toronto's thriftiest denizens, Bum's Trading Zone, or BTZ, as it's affectionately called by members—who call themselves "bums"—is where you can advertise your unwanted junk and meet up IRL to trade an air conditioner for some records, or an old credenza for booze, or some cardboard boxes containing untold treasures for weed.