Every Homeless Person is Just a Friend You Haven't Met Yet

I am genetically predisposed to talk to random strangers, because I have half of this man’s DNA. My dad has always been one to talk to whoever is available. Sometimes this embarrasses us on family vacations (i.e. dad, stop monologueing those Danish girls about your childhood in Mexico), but I can’t say that I’m not susceptible to the same behavior.

If you ever find yourself urgently needing to find me, try the Borders next to Madison Square Garden at 2:00 p.m. You have a 98 percent chance of finding me reading books and magazines that I am too poor to buy (hard cover biographies of first ladies and queens don’t come cheap!) Yesterday I was sitting next to the magazines perusing Reader’s Digest, when I heard, “Yeah, they just expletive deleted cut his face right off.” I looked up and saw a group of umm… less than ideally groomed men sitting with suitcases. Because I am stupid, I thought, “Oh, they must be waiting for a train (we were next to Penn Station).” I kept reading but had a hard time not listening to the profanity ridden story about the defaced man.

After a few minutes, an employee came over and told three of them, “Sirs, the general manager would like to clear this area. We are going to have to ask you to move.” One of the men replied, “We shouldn’t have to because of Obama.” The woman replied, “I’m sorry, but we are clearing the area.” A businessman, a young homeless guy with a massive suitcase and I survived the raid.

They stood up and one of them said, “This expletive deleted won’t happen for long, cause of Obama.” Then he pointed to my side of the magazine section and said, “What are you? V.I.Ps?” I just ignored him, but the homeless guy next to me replied, but I didn’t hear what he said. The expelled man said, “What’s wrong with you, brother? Ever heard of CHANGE?” My neighbor replied, “I hate Obama.” Even I gasped at that one. The exile yelled, “Well youse the only one. CHANGE! CHANGE! CHANGE!” Then he was led out by security.

Unfazed, I continued reading tips from experts about finding jobs in the current economic climate. After a few minutes, my seatmate asked, “Miss, can I commend you on something?”

Miss Jill: Of course.

Homeless Friend: You are the only woman who has been able to sit by me for more than ten minutes.

Miss Jill: What do you mean? (I always say this either to get more gossip or to buy myself some time).

Homeless Friend: Everyone sees me and runs away.

Miss Jill: Nervous laugh. Maybe you are imagining it. Most people are pretty self-conscious.
At that point I noticed that his three-inch long, dirty fingernails delicately grasped a joint.

Homeless Friend; So, you’re an intellectual?

Miss Jill: I don’t know about that.

I proceeded to talk to him for the rest of my lunch break. I learned that he came to New York from Seattle to go to film school, but dropped out, lost his job and ended up on the street. His family still thinks that everything is fine. He didn’t seem too motivated to change his situation, because the only job that he was willing to take was something in the film industry. I sagely said, “I do a job that I don’t exactly love because it’s better than the alternative.” He pointed to his suitcase and laughed and said, “I see what you mean.”

When it was time for me to return to my inspiring, intellectually stimulating job, I asked, “Is there anything that I can do to help you?” I thought about giving him a gift card that I had won at my last law firm for “whitest legs.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he told me. “I just want you to go live the best life that you can and shoot for your dreams.” I wished him luck and we went our separate ways.