A Different Friday Night

This past Friday was the end of a long week of pouring it on. Up early and working late. By Friday night @ 11:15pm, I was ready to pass out.

I was getting ready to walk home with Denise and Ahimsa (raw vegan havanese) and we bumped into an aggressive panhandler. This is a guy that we have seen in the hood for years. We actually met him once, but for the most part, we don't make eye-contact and he goes after the newbie party goers on the LES.

It was cold and raining and Ahimsa wanted me to carry him on my shoulders and this man, I will call T, began speaking to Ahimsa and asking him did he remember him?! We were pleasant, but were getting anxious to leave.

Instead, we began what became a 15 minute dialog about his baby's mother, his past escapades, his 17 days at the Salvation Army and his desire to get a home. I asked him had he been to AA and he said just started to moan and was looking for help.

I actually became a little aggressive, much more so than I can remember, but still in a compassionate way, and said to him, that g-d helps those who help themselves and that if he was serious, he could do something now.

He looked perplexed, had an unopened can of cheap beer in his pocket (one on deck), just completed a forty and was eagerly staring down some yuppies in front of the Stanton Social, but he continued to listen. Denise and I looked at each other and agreed to offer to take him to a midnight AA meeting on Houston Street.

There was little time left so we had to take a cab across town. Just walking two blocks took almost 10 minutes because T was shaking the cup at anyone who looked like they had money.

It's normally a pain to get a cab in the rain, it's harder when you have a dog, but much harder when you have a homeless drunk with you. We managed! I practically had to wrestle T's beer out of his hand and pour it out the window. I was actually getting a little attached to the outcome for a minute.

We got to the meeting, walked past a few guys smoking in front of the meeting, T of course was shaking his cup, looking for some change, even though he had about $75 cash in his pocket and makes about $200 a night in cash.

He said he needs to drink in order to shake the cup, but then he spends what he makes to drink. A vicious cycle. T is 39 years old, but looks more like 59.

As expected, they wouldn't let me sit during the meeting with a dog. I forget he's a dog and think that he's a prince or a little furry boy...

Denise asked where they should sit and I said front row and left. Ahimsa and I walked around the block about 5 times and then I had to take a pee... Even with the light rain, there were a lot of people on Houston Street. I walked past a slow McDonald's, picked up Ahimsa and snuck in there and waited patiently for the bathroom to clear.

When I got out, there was an email from Doreen from AdBrite, with the Subject "Raw". I was like wow, she's up and I called her and gave her some suggestions on what she should eat and told her to buy a recipe or two from Raw Chef Dan's website for a buck a piece.

Seventy-five slow minutes went by when Denise called and asked where we were. I told her downstairs and she warned me that the meeting was over and that people would be coming down now. She said that T was passed out and wouldn't get up. I picked up Ahimsa, walked up the stairs and there was T out cold. I tapped him on the back and he slowly woke up. He had broken a sweat and looked a little cloudy. He walked down the stairs and immediately, seemingly instinctively busted out his cup and began approaching the first people we saw in the street.

We weren't sure what to do with him now. He said he had been drinking all day. He slept on the train station. He thought the 28th Street shelter was dirty... We walked to Sixth Ave. and then headed North. He howled at women wearing skirts and begged from men and couples. He started mocking a man wearing a beret by calling him Picasso... I felt it was both funny and sad.

As we walked past a deli, I suggested we go in and get a bottle of water. He wanted to get a small one, I suggested a large one. He tried to get a clean cut guy in front of him to buy it and then tried to pay $1 instead of $2. My patience was wearing, but I mastered my emotions because I knew it would end soon.

We asked him what he was going to do and even suggested that he sleep in the emergency room. He had done that before, but preferred the train.

We walked to the West 4th Street station and said our goodbyes. Some kind man in the room gave him a meeting schedule and his phone number. I am not sure whether T had a phone, but he certainly could have based on the money that he makes.

I looked him in the eye and shook his hand for what felt like an eternity, but I knew there was not enough love there.. He had a firm handshake and a look of despair in his eyes. I candidly kept my hand out in the cold and didn't put my glove on or touch anything until I got home and washed my hand thoroughly.

We haven't seen him since...