I was walking around downtown the other day. It was kind of hot out, and I was running to a few different places. I go past City Hall, over where the sub entrance is, and these homeless guys start yelling at me. I had headphones on so I just ignored them and acted as if I didn’t hear them. But I did hear them…
“What is you wearing tights on for?”
“Ay. Ay! AYE GIRL! It’s too hot for them tights!”
“It’s so hot out! What is she doing?”
I swear, only in Philadelphia will the homeless community judge your fashion sense in passing. What the feezy?
Why do you care so much about what I’m wearing that you feel the need to yell at me on the street about it, like that will change anything? Don’t you have more pressing questions that should be answered? Like, oh I don’t know, maybe what you and the pet cat you inexplicably have are going to eat tonight? Worry about yourself! You don’t know my life! You don’t know what cold buildings I enter on a daily basis. You don’t know how often I shave my legs. You don’t know me. You don’t know anything.
They irked me. I do not mess with the homeless like that. I have stories. You’re nice and try to give, and it just backfires. I am so done.
One time my uncle and I were leaving a baseball game and walking to the car which we parked outside of the stadium lot. On the way to the car, this man was sitting outside of this fried chicken shop, and he asked us for food. We were willing to help, so naturally we went into the place he was sitting by. We get this guy a meal, bring it out to him, and he starts thanking us, telling us God bless, all that stuff. Then he opened the bag…
“…Chicken? I’M F*CKING SICK OF CHICKEN!”
And he proceeded to chuck the bag of food at us in disgust.
Oh, I’m sorry, homeless guy, that my generosity wasn’t good enough for you. You asked for food and you received food. Not good enough though. My bad. Was I supposed to drive down the road and get you something else? Nevermind the whole, beggars can’t be choosers thing, but you do realize the meaning of the term homeless, right? LIke, if you were so sick of chicken to the point of refusing it, you could just move and sit outside of some place that, y’know, wasn’t a chicken store? You’re not paying mortgage on the sidewalk, get up and leave! But yeah, he just threw the food back at us. And it’s experiences like those that have kept me from making eye contact with people on the street.
Anyway, if you have stories about your interactions with the homeless, I’d love to hear them in the comments.