my bum

Okay as a preface here, let me just defend myself of the following by saying that I do, in large part, recognize the plight of the homeless. That's why I use the term "bum" here instead of the many euphemisms that group otherwise dissimilar people. Is it true that the perpetually homeless are often the untreated mentally ill who could not afford hospitalization? I'm sure. Does gentrification create pockets of the destitute where blah blah blah? Yeah you got it lefty. No I'm not getting my lily-white college boy hands dirty here with social commentary.

In Chapel Hill, I did a lot of walking. I walked to campus, I walked home, I walked to Franklin, and I walked to walk-a-thons. I even walked to my car the same distance that I could have walked to the grocery store... but it would have been hard to walk back with all the groceries. The bus system always screwed me over (a story for another time). During that time I encountered bums of all sorts, but very frequently the same people. Anyway, here are some of the better solicitations I got:
-"Drop it like it's hot!"
-[upon being refused] "Come on man, this is my job."
-"I work at Disney World, and I'm trying to get back to Florida."
-"I ran out of diapers for my kid." This was at midnight at my front door. Yes I know she was lying b/c she claimed to be my neighbor. That house was, in fact, occupied by a woman who would walk up and down the street about half a block and take half an hour doing so. You'd better not be trying to park while she was crossing the driveway or you'd be sitting there for awhile.
-[knocking on David's car window] "Hello?" We ignored him. Intensely.
-"Graaaah! PLATE! Grumble..." as he lept for a carryout container I had (was filled with hamburger buns). He missed the container and instead jabbed my crotch. I swear this guy was cloaked in the shadows; he completely came out of nowhere.

This one woman who didn't ask for any money... well I won't call her a bag lady, but she did have quite a few plastic bags filled with trash. So, you know, make of that what you will. I was strolling down Church St. with about 50 lbs of English Lit in my backpack & managed to tune her out until I got close. She was sitting by the sidewalk mumbling, but I pulled a double-take like a cartoon villain when I realized she was looking at me. The only words I could make out were curses. I tried to keep pace, and all I could manage was a little salute as I passed. She went silent once my back was to her. Another 10 feet or so and "Yeah, that's right... You just keeeep on walkin' and makin' money!" I didn't turn back around, but I could feel her stare penetrate Modern Literature brutally. I didn't ever see her again.

Next time, same channel...
"Welcome to Durham."