today on 6th street…

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I went to my favorite mexican place for a burrito – it’s acutally the less enticing version of the favorite place, because the neighborhood is awful (btwn mission and market on 6th) but it’s the same food and I wanted it bad, so I decided to plunge in.

I walked out the back door to reduce the amount of yardage I’d have to cover on 6th street proper (you know, the place glorified in the recent movie RENT – because they couldn’t find anywhere in NY that was dirty enough to recreate NYC in the 80s).

Made it to market and across 6th unscathed, un-catcalled, un-anythinged but sun shined-on. Heck, I even made it all the way thru the order at said mexican place (Cancun for you curious types) and then realized I was $1.66 short at this cash only establishment.
(yeah, I know – my bad)

I cross 6th again to hit the $3/service fee ATM at the donut shop. I stupidly decide to try my empty savings account first and add two minutes to my standing there. In those last two minutes, a woman comes up to me saying “don’t say no, please don’t say no, i need a dollar” – I didn’t say no, I said “good luck to you, I don’t have $1 for you” and she proceeded to tell me that her husband just died.
“I’m sorry to hear that” and I walked to the curb to cross back over 6th to finish my transaction with the buritto man.

She proceeded to:
threaten my life
threaten my mom’s life
offer to spit on my face [“thanks, but no, I’m full,”]
and tell me what a horrid, “dog girl” that I am, along with a bunch of other stuff that I missed because of the adrenalin that kicked in in my “fight or flight? ok, flight” response.

Now I wish I would have told her to go to the city for help.

or to ask her her name so I could have her arrested for harassing me (sadly, I know how to have these vagrants arrested as it was part of my job description for a while)

or just go off and tell her to “fuck off and get a job you fucking crack head! you ruin homelessness for everyone who is drug free and down and out with no help available but to ask people like me for $, food or work!”

This shit really pisses me off – I hate having to be callous because I fell one too many times for someone’s “I need to get home” stories.

Actually, some woman I did give a dollar to, well call her Ruiner because she ruined it for the rest of them, told me some song and dance about trying to get $7 to get on the bus back to Sacramento. I told Ruiner why everyone was so “mean” to her on that street “because crack heads are always trying to get money for their fix on this block.”

How ironic.

I saw Ruiner three days later giving the same schpeal and I was so pissed.

Pissed for having been “taken” by some bullshit song and dance that NO one falls for unless they’re new.
Pissed because I wanted to believe her – like that flute player who only needed another $7 to get his bus ticket to Seattle who, after I gave him $2, I’ve never seen again (and I happily assume he’s reunited with his ex and their daughter up in Seattle)

I saw her two days after that, doing the same thing at a train station I was biking past as I yelled at her “LIAR!” and sped on.

I’m so sad and tired of this. I think I need to move to the country or something – this city makes my heart ache (in love because the good stuff is soo good as well as dispair at the lack of justice for simple humanity)

Stop taking advantage of my sad, broken heart. Please. Don’t say no.

And quit coming to the city to “try” one of the millions of ridiculous drugs that ruin people’s lives!

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