The Bums, The Bums, They Love Me...

Why does this only happen to me?

For the third time a bum has asked me out.

The first time was outside of the gym downstairs. The bum told me I was pretty and tried to talk to me. I brushed him off because he looked as old as my father. But I wasn't too harsh, because I thought he worked in my building. He looked normal and was actually really hansom. He had on tennis shoes, a t-shirt and sweat shorts, so I thought he had just exited the gym that’s located on the ground floor of our building. So I went down to the parking lot, got in my car and drove around the corner, heading for the freeway. I saw him on the island in the middle of Wilshire, with his little "bum" sign asking for money. He saw me, but wouldn't make eye contact. I was shaking my head. He seemed intelligent and was actually articulate; he should have been working in my building.

The second time was when I was going to work on a Sunday. While waiting to get buzzed in the building, by the slow assed security, this guy approached me and started talking to me. He was around my age and looked normal too. He said that he had seen me in the area before and I told him that I worked here. Then he said that he did to, and showed me his "bum" sign that he was holding. He said the dude on the street island was tripping and that he was going to the island across the street. I realized he was coming from the island before he had approached me. I had initially thought that maybe he was crossing the street, coming from the direction of UCLA. He asked for my number, I turned him down swiftly. He made his way to the traffic-less Jr. island across the street.

Now from what I've seen from taking my breaks outside, working the corners on Wilshire is like working for Corporate America. Usually the person with the most seniority in the department gets first choice of vacation time during a holiday, even if the newbie made the initial request. This concept is similar to bum Island, except the seniors can kick off the newbies, no matter if the newbie arrived first. And sometimes there is a waiting list for the corner. I was outside taking my break the other day and the bum lady walked by and hollered to the man on the island that she had next, and then he said that he'd save her spot. So I guess they have shifts also. Yep, just like corporate America. I wonder if they get benefits and stock options too.

So Bridge and I are outside taking a break, and this bum approaches and asks one of the other people on the bench for a cigarette and light. He started with the first person, and then went on to the second, until he got what he wanted. Then he did the same thing again, this time going down the bench and asking every one for $5. He was blunt and serious, and then was looking flabbergasted when no one supplied the cash. Now this bum holds the bum crown. He was a young white boy, dressed in skater clothing, though he looked like he rolled down a muddy hill a few times. He had sandy brown hair. If he washed it, it probably would be blonde, but it looked like it had brown sand in it, therefor: sandy brown. His teeth were thick ass hell, about a half-inch. Mostly tartar. If it wasn't for the tartar and plaque, he probably wouldn't have any teeth. Actually, they looked like a wide tooth, a unitooth, since you couldn't see where each tooth ended.


So he's all jittery, like he really needs a high. He's probably a meth addict. He finally gets to us and lingers. We know the question is coming, but we continue to carry on our conversation. Then he finally asks us, I turn him down flatly. So then he steps back and throws his head back in laughter, like he's Tyson Beckford, and I look like a 400 lb. female version of Patrick Ewing, who just turned down one night with him; I should be honored.

Next he asks me to buy him a Rick James cd and disc man. "Charge it," he said. WTF. Of all people why would he mention Rick James? Rick James must have been the last black artist he listened to, when he was apart of the real world. He must have thought that he had found a common ground with me, like we would connect of the strength that he liked Rick James. *Rolling eyes* And did he have the audacity, to ask me to buy him a cd player. So then I told him no and again Bridge and I continued talking as if he wasn't standing there. That's when he decided to ask me out. He suggested that we go to the movies and get something to eat, as if he wasn't the same person that was just bumming. "No," once again. That's it, that's all, no more words were needed.

He started to get a little disgruntle, so I was going to make my way back to the building to get Security. Technically, Security can't do anything (security guards note and observe, while it's the police who actually are supposed to protect and serve), but they're big and Black, so that has to count for something. And he was on meth, not water. A person on water can lift a building, but a meth addict can't even lift his head, so I could have taken him if I had too. Plus Bridge had my back. But in the end, I didn't want to be the Black girl who was seen fighting in front of the building.


But what is it about me that attract these bums. I know I'm me *brushes hair off shoulder* (haha, jk, well not really) But all my friends are attractive and they've never told me anything about being approached by a bum. The last guy was 51-50 and probably didn't remember anything that he was saying, even as the words left his lips, but the other two were serious. Did they think I was going to come outside and have lunch with them on the island? Where they going to take me on a date with dollar bills and change?

Maybe I'm too friendly...