Short North Observations

A homeless lady has been hanging around my block for about a year now. There are a lot of homeless people in downtown Columbus but she sticks out. She's nothing special really. Just your typical bag lady: toothless, frail and malnourished. Strung out with fresh pock makers and lesions on her face, the calling card of hard drug abuse (see meth head). Even the a-typical shopping cart full of junk. It's her disposition that is quite memorable.

Aggressive, combative, mean ... and she most certainly does not give a fuck. One evening, in the time it took my roommate to run upstairs and grab beers, she dropped trow right next to our trash cans not five feet from where I was parked. A river of urine flowed from her to the gutter under my car. She stared me down the whole time, a twisted gummy smile on her face. After an awkward few minutes that felt like an eternity she pulled up her pants and was on her way. Before she was out of my sight Tony was walking out our door, one misstep away from ruining his new kicks.

I'm told the homeless are very territorial, so other vagrants have bled or died so she could claim and maintain this as her turf. With the mentioned disposition, it's easy to see how she acquired it. As time went on I felt I'd gotten to know her in some weird way. I felt sorry for her because statics say that in addition to being an obvious drug addict she is also certifiably crazy. Schizophrenic or something equally as tragic. However, any sympathies I held for were quickly used up. Her nuisance level has only grown in intensity. We had to call the cops on her twice for defecating in our street during daylight hours. She'd screech late into the nights and scare the bejesus out of friends who went out for smokes.

This past summer I was at my wits ends. Leaving for work on a Friday in July I accidentally hit her with the door trying to get out of my building. A soft thud and then countless curses in a language I'd never heard before. I stepped outside and she took an aggressive posture with me like she wanted to swing. I told her to 'fuck off' in my best wise-guy tone.

"Find a new place to sleep," I said. "People live here. Keep moving on."

I mean really? We pay to stay on this block and your welcome to share it but stay the hell off my (rented) property. I stewed about it all night at work, bitching to whoever would listen on my cigarette breaks. After the shift a group of us went out for drinks and I hoped she had indeed moved on. I wanted to erase the image of her scarred pathetic face from my mind as quickly as possible. By the third round she was the last thing I was thinking about. It was summertime and the women were out in force, looking ripe for mating in their scandalous seasonal attire. But when I got home (twelve hours later) the bitch was still there, fast asleep where I'd left her on my stoop.

It'd been over a year of this non-sense and enough was enough. This shit could not stand. I lost it. My friends said to let it go but they hadn't been dealing with it day in and day out. I got in my car, which was parked on the curb next to where she was passed out and rolled down the windows. At the highest volume factory speakers can go, I played the most abrasive Rock 'n' Roll I had handy. After a song or two she started tossing and turning and by the fifth song I think she got the point, getting up and making a beeline down the nearest alley. She was in such a hurry she left her mangy blanket behind. My friends had long since gone inside with my roommate but I wanted to rub in my morale victory even more.

It was a filthy thing. Some sort of bed comforter that was blue or white at one point but years of grime and excrement gave it that brown/tan soiled look. It was worthless anyway but I was going to take this opportunity to really show her I meant business. I pulled out my dick and emptied the contents of bladder all over the blanket until it was fully saturated, singing God Bless America as loud as I could. Once back inside I'd never been more proud of myself. Take that you mother fucker! Hope you like my contribution to the misery that is your existence.

Today I can say it is NOT one of my proudest moments. I'd take it back if I could but being drunk and pissed off is always a strange place to be. Sometimes you do things you regret. I'm not justifying my behavior which was pretty much unexcusable but it happened. All I can do now is reflect. In my narcissistic mind this post is some sort of penance but it could never be enough; for her or any homeless person. They are the forgotten in society and nothing we do to spite them could ever compare to the things they endure on a regular basis. Some of them have checked out of the world by choice, via terrible decisions, but most are simply lost souls. Adrift in a leaky vessel, disappearing in the sea of civilization that hates and loathes them.

Sometimes, mostly during the cold drizzle of December before the snow comes, I can still hear shrieking at night. I haven't seen her lately so I think she got the hint but I have a feeling it's still her. Even writing about it gives me the chills. I want to reach out to her but the time for that has passed. I don't pretend to have any cures to the woes of men and women like her but I know I will never look at them the same way. Now, laying awake in my warm bed listening to the sounds of the city around me, I think of her and hope tomorrow is just a little bit better than the day before.


-J.R.