I have nothing against homeless people. I feel bad that they don’t have a roof over their head and food in their stomach, but there is a limit as to how much I can endure when I’m enjoying a peaceful walk in the city. When you ask me for money and I put my head down and put a little pep in my step, it does not mean chase me down the street. When I say “sorry I have no money,” it does not warrant an insult in return. For some reason, most people do not follow these rules. Instead they nag, chase, and act all around creepy until you either run (and I do mean run) away or give them money.
While walking in Chinatown the other day, I noticed a person start to follow me down the street. When I could go no further (thanks to a no walk sign) the man began speaking to me. It started out with a simple hello and how are you which I said I am fine, thank you. Then he asked me if I’d go out with him. When I said it was a really nice offer, but I would have to say no his response was one I have yet to hear: “you pregnant?” I told the gentleman that I was not in fact pregnant, trying so hard to withhold my laughter. Normally I would be offended if someone said this to me, but as he continued speaking, all I could do was laugh internally. “If you aren’t pregnant, why can’t you go out with me?” I told the man that I was going to meet someone, hoping that would be the end of the conversation.
It was not. “You want to get a sandwich? I got money.” Rather than say no again and end the conversation, I decided to tell him that I would feel guilty going to get a sandwich with him because I would need two sandwiches as I am eating for two. He told me he knew I was pregnant because I had a glow and continued to beg to buy me a sandwich. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, the light changed and I was able to cross the street and laugh. The man did not follow and two minutes later I heard him behind me go up to another unknowing girl and ask if she was pregnant.
I went home and told my roommate this story because, although it’s not the first time I’ve had an encounter with someone on the street, it was certainly one of my favorite stories. She told me that she had some special experiences herself, one including her bike.
My roommate had decided to go on a peaceful bike ride one morning which ended with her locking up her bike and going to get a cup of coffee. When she came back out, someone was sitting on her bike. She looked at him, sort of shocked and not knowing what to do, but before she could say anything he said “this your bike?” She told him it was and he followed quickly with “it’s a piece of crap.” She thanked him for informing her of this and asked him to move off of her bike. He then made an offer that was hard to pass up.
“I’ll give you $100 for this bike.” My roommate thought about it for a minute and told him that she needed the bike to get home. He then told her that $100 was a lot for her crappy bike, but she insisted that she should take it home. He said okay and to have a nice day, but before she could ride off, he turns back and asked “can I borrow a 20?”
I sometimes feel bad that the people who entertain me the most don’t get anything in return from me. Sometimes I start to contemplate going into my wallet and seeing if I have a dollar or so to donate for food or a bottle of water. But when the man outside of my office had just finished peeing on our building and tries to dip his hand in my basket of muffins (which he called a “classy buffet”), that’s when I am brought back to reality.
Hahahaaa!
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