So I’m smoking out my front window and this woman walks up to me (I live on the ground floor - my window is at sidewalk height). She explains that she’s stranded here, and is 5 months pregnant (obvious from the visual), that she smokes but doesn’t do any drugs :dubious: but she’s lost, tired of walking and wants to go to the Union Gospel Mission. She sinks down in sadness, and sits in front of my window.
Well, first I filled the Cup O’Noodle she handed me with hot water and gave her a plastic fork.
Then I started calling around to shelters. It sucks here - all the shelters are “program” - they take people who are going to stay to kick drugs. Union Gospel Mission only takes men (which is kind of how I clinched she was from out of town). I called several places, and kept having to call other places, who could help her in the morning but not now.
Finally (after 15-20 minutes of calling) I hand her some phone numbers and a tenner. Gave her directions to a 24 hour restaurant.
I will say that I’ve had experience with drug addicts in the past and she really did not set off that radar - she was not twitchy, she was patient with me, she just seemed really tired. She was adamant about not getting the police involved, but that’s a pretty natural reaction for her situation. (Poor black woman, no resources - apparently getting wired money for a plane ticket on Friday, when her sister gets paid.)
I believed her and disbelieved her 50/50 - I live in a place with a lot of scam artists, but she seemed sincere. (And I’ve been a scam artist in my lifetime, so I can sometimes spot them better.)
In the end, it doesn’t matter whether she’s going to go sit at a restaurant or going to smoke crack (other than for the baby). I did my best.
I was in a bar the other night and this homeless guy sat next to me, and when I asked him where he was from he seemed shocked that somebody was actually talking to him. He told me a little about fighting in Vietnam (assuming he really did) which is believable because there is a Veteran’s hospital nearby, I gave him the last dollar I had on me.
About a month ago I gave this hitchhiker a ride to the bus station and talking to him found out we had both worked with brickmasons in Florida.
Last time we were in Seattle we were trying to get to the waterfront from a part of downtown we’d never been at before. Got a little lost. This guy walks up to us (my mother and I) and asks where we’re trying to go.
He wasn’t CLEAN, but I’d seen just off-shift construction workers in much worse shape so I really didn’t think anything of it. Upon getting directions and walking away the guy he’s with says something that we just dismissed off hand. Wasn’t until about 45 seconds later I realized the guy was probably homeless.
I’d have spared a couple of bucks. One one hand he helped out, was more than friendly, and probably saved us 20 minutes of walking. On the other I’d have had to dig through my wallet (that was a bit full, we were on vacation) right in front of the guys to find something. God for bid he actually BE one of the bad ones and I get us mugged by flashing cash.
Three years and I still feel like shit about it though. A guy down on his luck, STILL helping someone else in need and I stiff him.
Eh, torture yourself no longer. Almost certainly what he said was, “Can you spare a couple bucks, I need to put gas in my car?” And your subconscious mind intercepted that message, rightly decided it belonged in the Junk Mail Folder, and deleted it for you.
I’m an awful cynic, I know.
He has a whole series of nicely dressed, friendly twin brothers who stop in my Walgreens on Friday or Saturday night about once a month and ask to speak to a manager, and when s/he turns up, he tells a long story about how he’s just arrived in town for his grandmother’s/aunt’s/cousin’s funeral and he’s been offered a job here in Decatur and it fell through, and he asks, nicely, for some money so he can go to the homeless shelter, or else go up to the truck stop on the Interstate and get a berth for the night.
The homeless shelter is free.
There is no truck stop.
I got that a couple of times in DC from a certain woman accompanied by a youngster. Them I didn’t mind; had I ever run into them again, I’d pull out my wallet and tell her to save the cock & bull story.