I was walking down 82nd and 1st today, making my way back to my apartment. There are two homeless dudes that are always hanging out on our block, but on either ends. One is always rocking the sweet streets of 82nd and 1st while the other is more wishy washy and changes sides from 82rd and 1st to 83rd and 2nd. He's a bad ass! He's very fashionable, always creating new and exciting things to wear from what he discovers in the neighborhood. Once I saw him wearing a pair of garbage jeans, some paper bag shoes and an awesome headband made from newspapers and orange peels! He's the jam!
Anyhoo, these guys are totally harmless. I mean come on, they're Upper East Side bums, they have etiquette!
So this particular evening I was coming from a disappointing audition and got me and the man of the house a bottle of wine. And when I say "man of the house", I mean my boyfriend, who really didn't get any wine because mama needed her makeitallokay juice. While crossing the street I see the fashionable-hobo kicking it on his corner. He never, ever says anything. Not to anyone but himself, that is. He's actually really great at doing voices and impressions. Once I caught him impersonating someone, maybe the mailman or a former President, all by himself, and he was really good! He's great at using different voices.
Anyway, I didn't think tonight would be any different. I glanced at him while walking past, and for the first time, he was looking back at me.
"Hi there. How are you tonight?" I asked, and smiled.
"I'm doing, okay miss, thank you" He answered.
"Thats good to hear. Have a good night"
"Um, miss? Would you be able to spare some change? I'm really hungry."
"Oh, um, sure. No problem."
I usually give money to homeless folks. It's a really unfortunate state to be in, and especially here in New York. The weather sucks and it's just a harsh place to be. I start to rifle through my purse and pull out a couple of singles.
"Here you go. Take care!" I feel cheery suddenly. Like the night wasn't a total waste.
The fashionable man looks me in the face. I take note that tonight he's clad in a holey sweater and on his left foot an Ugg, on his right, a Croc. Man, he's got taste!
"Thank you you fat ass!" He bellows. Then he laughs. And laughs. And laughs.
I'm stunned. Wait, is he allowed to do that? Can he call me a "fat ass" legally? I just gave that fucker a couple of singles! And he called me fat? Several come backs speed through my brain.
1.Well, at least I can afford to eat!
2. It's not fat, I'm very strong, especially in my thighs
3. Fuck you!
None of these things came out my mouth, instead I just stared in disbelief! And then, I...laughed! A lot! This guy just called me a fat ass! Beautiful! It was a very honest moment, and hilarious, so I'm glad it happened. No excuse me while I barf up my dinner so I feel whole again.
Goodnight!
