I’ve got a few good ones. Once, I was riding the tube (in London), when the door that connects the carriages opened. I’ve never seen anyone use these doors before, they’re labelled “risk of death if used when train is moving”. Anyway, a begger comes through the carriage, playing an accordian. Yes, you read that correctly. There was a cup taped to the accordian for people to put money in. A few people gave him change, and then he went through the other door into the next carriage.
The other one was at a tube station. There were tunnels that led from the station up to the ground level. A homeless man sat in one of the tunnels, screaming at the top of his lungs, “CHANGE PLEASE! CHANGE PLEASE!” over and over. I guess cardboard signs just don’t cut it these days.
There are lots of panhandlers near where I work (downtown Portland). One I remember in particular is a young female whose cardboard sign says she is pregnant. She must have been pregnant (without any visible change in her abdomen) for the last 11 months or so…
Yesterday, a middle-aged, decently-dressed black man approached me and said “Disabled veteran…” while gesturing toward me with a pack of cigarettes. I was baffled. Was he offering me a cigarette? I don’t smoke, never have, never will. Was he asking me to give him cigarette money? Of all the reasons to give money, that’s guaranteed not to work on me. So I said, “I don’t understand.” He repeated himself. I still didn’t get it, so I said, “What are you asking me?” He finally explained that he needed to get to Vancouver to pick up a disability check, but had no way to get there. I told him I had no way to help him, as I was simply out on an errand - I had no purse, no money on me. Just like everyone else who asks me for money when I take the bank deposit every day, he acted like he didn’t believe me.
There was a homeless guy I frequently saw (a non-panhandler) who looked exactly like that famous painting of the abolitionist John Brown, or perhaps the Sistene Chapel Jehovah who went on a bender right after pointing at Adam: he was about six-four with a long, flowing beard and a very dignified mien. Anyway, a woman I knew once sat down next to him on a park bench, hoping that he would offer her some kind of philosophical insight. And after a few minutes of silence he turned to her and said, “How about some pussy?”
There’s a Stephen King story called (I believe) Blind Eddie, about a panhandler who pretends to be blind and makes thousands of dollars a day. I’ve often wondered if there was even a little bit of truth to it…
I had to change trains in Luxembourg (the city) once & ended up getting kicked out of the central train station where I thought I could spend the 6 hrs or so in between trains. I ended up in the red light district for a few hours, which is mainly populated by African trannie prostitutes. I was followed as I walked around for a few hrs killing time by a shabby man who was otherwise well dressed, wore a bowler and carried a suitcase. When I turned around to look at him he’d look away as if he weren’t following me. It was more amusing than threatening.
Fast forward a couple of years later. I’m working in Bosnia & a one of my colleagues in from Luxembourf. Naturally I have to realte the story. Well, this guy knows who he is! He was an engineer who designed a bridge (in Belgium IIRC) which people liked to commit suicide from. This guy took it personally, drank, snapped, lost everything. Apparently students would pay him booze money to do thei math & physics homework.
Last Halloween I was Alex from “A Clockwork Orange.” I joked to friends that’d be one day no one would ask me for spare change. On my way to a party a panhandler accosted me & asked if I had any spare change. I cracked up (and gave him some) and asked if he ever used to see many movies. He didn’t.
I probably have dozens of moderately interesting stories from here and the Third World. Those two are the best.
Back in high school I had a buddy who would reply to “Can you spare some change” with…
WARNING! LAME JOKE ALERT
“No but I can change a spare”
The panhandlers didn’t like it much either.
I personally stopped giving money to kids on the street when a particularly sad looking girl who had moved me to literally give her all I had in my pockets (probably around 50 or 60 cents) became offended with the amount of pennies involved. Offended enough that she actually swore at me and chucked the change back at me.
That and the other street kid that had a discman, sony no less, during a time when I couldn’t afford one, kind of made me think that perhaps they weren’t all that destitute.
I’ve encountered more than a few panhandlers, since I used to live in Vancouver. Most were not creative, but once a young man, maybe a college/university student was asking for “donations for marijuana research”. Actually, quite a few people were giving to his cause
I had just spent 9 hours on a greyhound bus from South Station in Boston, MA travelling to Montreal Quebec. I have never been and had to make to the hotel in an hour for check in. This very stinky indivual comes running up to me screaming in french. I politely tell him that I dont speak french, in French. His response is as follows:
I SPEAK ENGLISH VERY WELL!!! in a nasty accent. GIVE ME 20$ SO ME AND MY FRIENDS CAN EAT TODAY!
I tell him no and walk away. He follows me for 3 blocks screaming to give him 20$. I run . He runs after me screaming in French, then sees someone turn a corner across the street and he bolts off running and screaming at the new guy1
I’m heading into a convenience store, and as I cross the parking lot, this sketchy-looking guy comes up to me and asks, “You got a smoke?” (Fairly routine annoyance so far.)
Me: (Not breaking stride) “No, sorry.”
Sketchy-looking guy: “Do you smoke rock?”
Me: “Uh, no.” (I don’t think I could look much less like a crackhead if I tried, which I generally don’t have to. :D)
Sketchy-looking guy: (Following me now) “Do you know where I can get some?”
Me: “No idea, really.”
I started to go towards the counter and then thought better of it, because I had a few hundred dollars in my pocket and didn’t want to take my wallet out while this guy was standing behind me. So I stopped by the magazine rack and feigned interest.
Sketcher walks straight to the counter and asks, “Is this Western Union?”
Cashier: “What?”
Sketchy-looking guy, “Is this the Western Union?”
Cashier: “Uh, no. This is a Mac’s.”
Sketchy-looking guy, “Do you know where the Western Union is?”
Cashier: “No.”
