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| 2004-10-16
Someone Was A Little Pissy Today. It wasn�t me either. And hey, look� I�m carrying forward a �theme�, if you will, from my last entry. Of course, I consider all my entries �thematic� in the sense that they�re all entries. The very essence of a diary if you ask me. Lord knows, it�s certainly not literature, or hell, even a collection of decent writings. Heh. I should know since they�re my words and all. Anyway, I went to brunch today and was, of course, waited on by BostonBoston. My father�s presence seemed very real as I ordered, oddly, steak and fried eggs (his favorite; I hate fried eggs) for the very first time in my life. BostonBoston handled this unusual order gracefully and, knowing my eating habits perhaps even more intimately than I, brought me a side of salsa with my order. While my deceased father (remember, brunch is a weekly memorial to him) seemed to know that, due to all my vacation sleeping, I was quite deficient in protein, BostonBoston seemed to understand that a side of salsa would make me very happy. Obviously, it doesn�t take much. Then, I went grocery shopping. Not so much joy there.
Now some background information is needed to truly appreciate my further ramblings. For one, I normally park in the alley behind TheHotel to unload my groceries. The alley is public property, as is most property around TheHotel. On the same side of the street, TheHotel is flanked by a government agency and a private assisted-living senior residential building. The backs of these buildings face the alley. On the other side of the alley are the backs of two more government agencies. In other words, all respective back doors face the alley. Including the backdoor to the SeniorPlace which happens to be the backdoor of the kitchen. I don�t know what they cook there � my �rebel� senior friends describe it with some very colorful adjectives � but I�m guessing it�s fairly bland food. Let�s just say that I�ve never smelled anything good or bad coming from the kitchen. In fact, I wouldn�t even know it was a kitchen except that the kitchen workers enter and exit that door wearing hairnets and a bunch of kitchen-type noises come from that space. Here are a few more things you need to know. There�s construction happening on one side of the alley so half of it is filled with construction equipment and various building materials. Additionally, there are a lot of dumpsters that hold recyclables, discarded building materials and garbage. Finally, there are a few government agency (public) ashtrays. Now see, these ashtrays� they�re, um, substantial. And, sparse. They�re sparse because public ashtrays have fallen into that unfortunate category which I call �RIPRIA�. That stands for �Reverse Ignorant Psychology Results In Abstinence�. It�s a flawed theory. Obviously. They�re substantial because they�re fricking concrete stanchions nowadays. Ones that are bolted to a concrete surface and weigh a million tons. Those older sleak metal models. Um, no. Anything in MyTown that can be recycled and isn�t bolted down (including bleachers) is recycled. Owners not required. Know what I mean? Wow, this is a lot of background. Especially considering that, while I find the payoff worth the words, you may not. Feel free to move along, if that�s the case. Okay, so one more thing. The alley is well and frequently traveled by a wide variety of people including residents of TheHotel, SeniorPlace, government agency employees, SeniorPlace kitchen folks, construction workers, business folks, joggers, walkers, wayward children, mischievous and/or daredevil juveniles and the homeless. The homeless, unfortunately, are probably the most frequent alley visitors. Second only to random residents of the SeniorPlace.
So today, I parked in the alley after shopping in order to unload my groceries. It was late afternoon, bright and sunny. I started unloading groceries. When I went out to my car after the second trip, I noticed a KitchenGuy standing across the alley smoking and hovering over one of the public ashtrays. In addition, I noticed that a �regular� homeless guy was crutching down the alley towards me. (�Crutching� because he has one and half legs. People, including myself, call them �one-legged� people � which isn�t PC of course � but in a city, categorizing is somewhat essential. And, honestly, between the homeless and the seniors, there are a lot one-legged people. Unfortunately, they�re usually veterans of former wars or folks who don�t have medical insurance. Or, tragically, both.) In this case, the OneLeggedGuy (OLG) was one of the local homeless guys that can be, but isn�t always, obnoxious. At the pace he was keeping though I figured he�d be gone from the alley before I made my third trip. Or maybe I should say that I assumed that. When I started back downstairs, I recognized a one-legged professional guy �crutching� through the breezeway below me. I kinda shook my head because the �crutch� pace matched but the professional guy is very difference in appearance from the one-legged homeless guy. I accepted it though because I like the professional guy more than the homeless guy because he�s polite and doesn�t bother me. In any case, when I got down to the alley, I noticed the KitchenGuy was gone and OLG was standing over the public ashtray. When OLG noticed me, he said �oops� in a faux-shameful way. I looked back and saw that he was pissing in the ashtray. See now, when the homeless relieve themselves in the alley, they usually do so at night and they turn away from public view. In other words, they make it as discreet and sanitary as possible. But, there�s a subculture of the homeless who take great pleasure in defecating and urinating in the most public and unsanitary way as possible. I understand that display of revolt and anger however, I don�t really appreciate the result. Nor do I appreciate witnessing the whole event. I busied myself walking out to my car and retrieving my last bags of groceries from the trunk. I turned around and checked. Yeah. OLG�s Johnson was still out there. Remember that I don�t see well at all and there was a vast distance between us. He either really had to pee a lot or he just enjoyed subjecting me and the government agency�s property to his misery. I suspect the latter. My suspicion was confirmed when I returned a few minutes later to move my car and he was absolutely nowhere in sight. OLG can �crutch� right fast when he wants to. After parking my car, I walked back into the alley to return home. I immediately noticed that KitchenGuy (KG) and his buddy, OtherKitchenGuy (OKG) were hovering in the area that OLG had pissed in. To be precise, KG was leaning against a wall smoking while OKG was actually sitting on the public ashtray eating, um, a hot dog. Here�s what happened. (CI:) (To OKG) Oh, I wouldn�t sit there. (OKG:) Why? (CI:) Um, you know that one-legged homeless guy? (That is a really stupid question to ask someone who works at the SeniorPlace. They only hear �one-legged� � they never hear �homeless� � and then they have a name.) (OKG:) You mean Guy Guy? (CI:) No. No. The homeless one-legged guy. Anyway, he pissed in that ashtray. Well, in it, on it and around it. I wouldn�t sit there. (OKG:) (Looking horrified and jumping up) What? No. Oh. Are you serious? (KG:) Damn, man. (CI:) Yeah, I�m serious. He pissed in it right after you (point to KG) had a smoke. (OKG:) What?! You mean TODAY?! He PISSED in it TODAY?! (KG:) Shit. (Shaking his head.) (CI:) Yes today. Within the last 15 minutes actually. (OKG:) Damn, man. Shiiiitttt. (KG:) Shiiiittt. Hey, thanks for letting us know. That�s really disgusting. (CI:) No problem. And witnessing it is also disgusting. When I walked off, I left two young men doing the male equivalent of �EEEWWW� and the �gross dance� thing.
Just for the record, no one pisses in TheHotel�s ashtray. The fact that there�s only one and it�s out front on a very busy and public street is a main reason. But, I think it�s mostly because it�s private property hence, possible trespassing charges. Well, and it�s not convenient � you have to climb some stairs and all. And then be somewhat tall? Limber? Coordinated? Let�s just say it�s not conducive for that function. Because, trust me, I�ve seen the �pissing in public� subculture homeless people urinating in planters, doorways and gutters of main throughways during rush hour. Too many times. They�re neither a shy nor timid bunch.
your thoughts?
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