Hobo Chronicles!
The cold weather brings together two segments of society that otherwise don’t often mix in close quarters. I’m talking about me, and my fellow big time swinging city swingers, and the hobo. One of the most common points of rendevous for these encounters is the old Chicago Library. What attracts classiness such as myself is the world’s largest Tiffany glass dome, the mosaics and European cafe. What attracts the hobo is free heat, free seats and the European café patrons. You have to hand it tothe, they know how to make the most of their time in there.
Bum: Mind if I sit next to you. Screwdriver! Horse buggy!
.Working Boy: I don’t have a choice do I?
B: Thanks. You know I was the President of Rwanda once. Cow planet!
W.B: Please I’m trying to eat my avocado and sprouts in peace and quiet.
B: Yup, President of Rwanda. Nerf hearder! Yellow Oxygen! Course that was before the black bile outbreak of ‘02. Black bile everywhere: ears, under fingernails.
W.B: Please stop. I’m so hungry
B: Jazzercising American White Demon! What was I saying? Oh yeah, the Feast of a thousand Scorpion bites on your tongue. Now that was a holiday. Lots of puss though. Lots of puss. What’s wrong?
W.B: Oh nothing it’s just this avocado looks a bit, um, overripe.
B: You going to finish that?
W.B: I suppose not.
B: Rwanda will rise again! Cop lazer!
So I usually leave the library hungrier and poorer than when I enter while the turrets bum leaves richer and full of wheat germ. Now, I know people who would see this as a case of poetic justice. Of course, these are the same people who pretend to spend their lives suffering through white, liberal guilt, so I don’t have much time for that and usually kick whatever sleeping/passed out bum I may come across on my way back to work.
Of course it’s not all gross out scams and general turrets. There’s always a chance for a good old fashioned hobo fight. Like the one today between a different turrets hobo and the one I affectionally refer to as: "Token White Bum of Scholarly Reputation." He wears glasses.
Stay tuned....
posted by Working Boy @ 3:57 PM
5 Comments:
And by "turrets" I suppose you mean "tourette's"? The daytime bums around here usually aren't ver aggressive. They know most people just don't really have much money to give them, and the ones that do will probably give it to them without being asked. They're schtick is mostly to try to befriend you, shooting the breeze etc., so that you feel awkward NOT giving them a cigarrette the next time the two of you are "hanging out." The nighttime ones can get a bit rough, especially if you stray too close to a fast-food restaurant, where they're driven a bit loco by grease-fumes. And occasionally you'll get a pretty fearsome shirtless subway bum who'll come stand right in front of you until you look up at him and then train that "eyes brimming with tears plus I'm crazy-as-fuck" gaze on you. Even they aren't as terrifying as your typical Loop bum though. Chicago definitely has some scary bums. I suppose the lousy weather probably helps them keep their edge. How do Boston's or Washington's bums compare?
i mean turrets. my blog, my rules. as for bums, we actually get a lot of letters about our bums being more rotten than others people have experienced. but i still think washington bums would be meaner. or at least more filled with disease. why is this?
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I don't have much experience with Boston hobos because I don't get downtown that often. Apparently, however, many of them have a thing for Millie. Usually they don't solicit her for money, but for a hug. "I wish you would hold me like you're holding those books," an elderly one told her the other day. I have had good experiences with Washingtonian hobos before, as many of them seem to have a musical and entrepreneurial bent. As a green high schooler, I recall telling a DC hobo who was playing jazz on a toy keyboard, "You know, Duke Ellington came from D.C. Maybe you'll be famous like him one day." I thought I was giving him hope.
The bum that I admitted from the ER on friday is actually a really nice guy who happens to cut off his own fingers or stab himself or stand on the metro rails occasionally. But he does keep very close track of diet since he has kidney failure.
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