How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bum
Ever since I was hit by a crazy person outside of my apartment, I have been noticeably jumpy around people who look…well…crazy. Whenever someone lurches towards me on the sidewalk — a move that is often accompanied by one or more of the following: arm flailing, screaming, urinating, swearing or throwing things — I tense up. In writing, that actually sounds pretty normal. That said, I often just get nervous when I walk alone and see someone in my path who looks even remotely shady.
This morning, I was out for a stroll in the gray, wet mist of an SF September, and I found myself in the gaze of a homeless person lounging at the edge of Lafayette Park. When he got up and started moving towards me, fight or flight kicked in. I’m all flight, so I got ready to run and reached for my giant whistle, which until this point has only been used (very successfully, I might add) to herd friends at birthday bar crawls.
But then…
In a move that truly surprised me (and I’m not easily surprised)…
The man told me I was very pretty as he handed me a flower that he had picked from a nearby bush. It almost had the sweet feel of a mid-80’s John Cusack movie (”Say Anything” comes to mind), if I were Ione Skye and John Cusack were a grizzled homeless guy named Barry.
Just when I am ready to give up on this city, something like this happens. Seriously, made my weekend.