Your drinking problem has affected me in the following ways:

I had an odd experience last Monday night. As per any Monday night, I spent the evening watching Intervention and then feeling restless, went to meet Lara for a drink in Adams Morgan at approximately 9 o'clock. Now, I live in arguably one of the safer areas of DC. I literally live one block away from busy Dupont Circle in a well lit building. I don't feel nervous in the slightest walking to the metro at 9 o'clock at night. Swimming after a burrito is probably a riskier action.

That being said, as I walked out of my building I saw a sketchy looking character loomin' around out front. Not a huge deal. I didn't make eye contact and continued on my way. I took about two steps until he shouted at me, "Excuse me miss! You dropped something!" Now normally I wouldn't believe this character, but I happened to be carrying my circa 1991 Olney Elementary tote bag that I insist on wearing ironically, despite the fact that there's a sizable hole in the bottom. I stopped, turned around and walked back. "Oops, did I?" I asked. "Yep—YOUR SMILE!" God damnit.

I gave him the old "HAHAHA, YOU!" smile and turned to walk away, when he grabbed my upper arm. He didn't grab it in a way that made me panic, but it was with enough force that I was detained. I would say he gingerly grabbed my arm. I've lived in various major cities for a while now and I'd like to think that I have pretty good Are-You-Going-to-Shank-Me? radar. This guy was only a minor blip on the screen. I mean, I wouldn't let him house sit, but he seemed relatively harmless, so I decided not to bust out my aerobic kickboxing moves and box step-box step-uppercut-jab my way out of the situation. I thought I'd let him say his little schpeal, explain I had no money (true) and go on my merry way.

No dice.

"Young lady, I couldn't help but notice you leaving your hotel [blatant apartment] with your makeup on and your hair done up nice [Burt's Bees and a pony tail] and I thought I just had to talk to this young woman."

Frankly, this is the nicest thing anyone of the opposite sex has said to me in a while, so he earned a few points there. However, he was a little slurry and homelessy and drinking out of a blatant red solo cup in the street, so I couldn't exactly take him home to meet mom and dad. He continued to go on and on about god knows what and I decided to stick around for the following reasons: 1.) He still and a firm, yet ginger grasp on my arm and 2.) I was just watching a very touching episode of Intervention about an alcoholic man who was a middle-class father and husband forced to panhandle for change in the street to feed his addiction. So sad. Addiction is a horrible thing. "—Now I see you tensing up a bit, but don't worry! I'm not gonna hurt you none."

Blllaalright...no matter how ginger your hold may be, assuring me that you won't hurt me is the verbal equivalent of showing me your shiv. And I don't see Candy Finnigan or Jeff Van Vonderen hiding in any of the bushes. Perhaps it was time to high-tail it out of there.

I started to pull away from him and made desperate eye contact with people walking by, hoping someone would come to my aid. But nobody did. And what the fuck, DC?! I've always had your back and in my moment of need, you don't have mine?! Uncool! I know people don't want to "interrupt" or "overstep their bounds," but I assure you the homeless man carrying a solo cup grabbing my arm isn't my boyfriend. That's a look of fear in my eyes, not love. Feel free to step on in there anytime.

The man continued, "—Because I would never hurt a woman! My momma taught me to never, ever hit a woman. In fact, I do some freelance bodyguard work down at Camelot." Camelot is the strip club around the corner. The concept of doing "freelance bodyguard work" at a strip club is hee-fucking-larious to me. Because that is the classiest way in the entire world to say, "I lurk around strip clubs and beat people up." I would let this guy re-write my resume any day of the week.

"—I was just at Camelot the other day, and there was this sick motherfucker stalking one of the girls! I mean STALKING! So I walk up to him and I say, 'If she wanted to be with you, she'd be with you, motherfucker!' And that motherfucker told me to mind my own business! So you know what I did? I BROKE HIS FUCKING JAW!" Now what in the sick hell am I supposed to say to that? Kudos? I went with an awkward, "Ah" and decided to hail down a passing cab and get out of this situation.

"OH YOU TRYIN' TO HAIL A CAB?! I'll get a cab for you! You're my girl, so I get the cab for you." He let go of my arm, walked a bit into the street and started to wave at passing cabs. I decided to peace the fuck out. I started walking away and he started running after me, "WAIT, WAIT, WAIT, WAIT! Don't go! I'll get you a cab!" "Yeeeahhh...that's ok...I really don't need you to—" "DON'T EVEN MENTION IT! You're my girl!" And that's when he started rapping a little diddy that I can only assume is entitled, "High Class Bitch," for the most memorable lyric was:

"Yo baby girl, want you to scratch my itch/
But I can tell you won't, cuz you'z a high class bitch."

Frankly, for assuming I was a high-class anything he was back on my good side.

Still, I was now desperately trying to get a cab to stop for me, but cabs tend not to stop for people accompanied by clearly drunk homeless people. I couldn't walk away because every time I did, he followed me. "Look baby, I haven't eaten in four days. I'm hungry. I just need a little money." Truthfully, I did have $20 for emergency I-Need-a-Cab situations like this one. And I only need like $7 to get to Adams Morgan, but I didn't think it was appropriate to ask the homeless man if he had change for a 20 in the middle of a recession.

I was no longer amused by this situation. I would take a step, he'd take a step. I hailed a cab, he'd try to hail the cab. Plenty of people were walking by, not one person stopped to help. I looked as frustrated as I felt. "Don't worry baby, I'll get you a cab!" He then proceeded to throw his solo cup to the ground, walk into the middle of the street and jump in front of a random Dodge Stratus, which came screeching to a halt. He then pointed to the man driving, looked back at me and said, "This guy's white—you know him??"

...I genuinely didn't know if I should laugh, cry, or just get in the Stratus. The concept of all white people knowing each other is a hilarious gross generalization. Like how all Asians look the same. Or when you're abroad and you meet someone who goes to UVA you're all, "NO SHIT! Do you Jason Rosenthal class of '05?!?!?!" despite the fact that over 13,000 people go there.

In the end I chose to scuttle away like a scared crab while Whitie belligerently honked at my new boyfriend.

What I've learned from this situation is:
1.) Washington, DC residents are not good Samaritans
2.) I'm a high-class bitch (!)
3.) Although Intervention is touching, I should not trust every drunk person I meet
4.) All white people know each other

And now you know.


BB said...

I had a similar situation on the bus where a toothless black man told me I was his Mona Lisa and then proceeded to try and touch me. You are correct, DC residents are not helpful in these situations, I had two guys sit down next to me and not once did they intervene. At least you got a rap song...

Rachel said...

These are the notes I have taken:
1)" don't feel nervous in the slightest walking to the metro at 9 o'clock at night. " Um Meg. Have you forgotten Steak TAR TAR!!!????
2) My brothers best friend is named Jason Rosenthal, so in fact, you might know him
3) If by "high class" you mean...prostituion whore than were good.
4) that rap is amzing.

Unknown said...

As they apparently say in D.C., "Oh, Muh, God." Yikes - any type of grabbing is a big ole red flag, no matter how ginger it may be.

Although the rap did help, I guess.

Margo said...

Even the DC 911 operators are blase as hell! I called 911 once because this guy was screaming outside my building saying he was going to kill this other guy, and he was punching stop signs and parked cars. He kept threatening to leave and go get his gun. So, I called the cops after about 5 minutes of this noise, and the operator was like "Well if you don't think he has a weapon on him, do you just want to drop this?" Yes, sir, I thought I would call 911 just to then say "Yeah, sure, blokay. Go ahead and forget about it, and if he comes back with his gun to shoot up my apartment, I'll just give you a quick shout back."

It was at this point that the guy got into his car (one of the ones he was punching) and drove off, pulled a u-turn on Mass Ave, nearly killing someone and causing an accident. 911 operator still didn't seem to care. His response "we'll send somebody" and hung up.

Anonymous said...

i live in boston and this happens a lot to me-- I find that starting to talk about Jesus/God/them Being Saved in the near future makes them move on to another person really quickly.

Serena Van der Woodsen said...

I live in Baltimore and I have a group of homeless guys that always compliment on my way to work...sadly, I find it a nice way to walk to work in the morning hearing "Hey baby you looking good today!" or, "Girl, I like your dress." I find that so flattering, its not good.

2b1b: The sardonic voice of 20-somethings everywhere, Monday through Friday. said...


Rachel just pretty much told this post to akrite. So there's that. This is what I get for writing posts when I heinously hungover.

Grant said...

I live in Bed-Stuy and yesterday had some guy yell at me "Hey white boy, this ain't Long Island, get the fuck outta here!" at me.

At least nobody touched me. And I was wearing boat shoes and aviators, so he might have had a point.

Ohmygoshi said...

The same thing happened to me a couple Mondays ago! I was cornered at the bus stop and some guy decided to strike up a conversation. I had to make up this elaborate story of "My soon-to-be-fiance, the DOCTOR" and just how happy we were!

Last Monday seemed to be the night for crazies! My friend got slapped in the face with a grocery bag by a homeless woman. Then, while walking home later that night, some random guy reached out and grabbed her boob!

True story.

Kevin said...

The "HaHa, You" smile is usually quite effective, I'm surprised it did not work. Most people don't know that President Coolidge successfully negotiated the Kellogg-Briand Pact of 1928 just by giving France the "HaHa, You" smile over and over again.

2b1b: The sardonic voice of 20-somethings everywhere, Monday through Friday. said...

a.) I live in Bed-Stuy and yesterday had some guy yell at me "Hey white boy, this ain't Long Island, get the fuck outta here!" at me.

At least nobody touched me. And I was wearing boat shoes and aviators, so he might have had a point.

That's my favorite comment. Ever. For so many reasons.

b.) How is it 3 o'clock in the afternoon and I'm still hungover?

c.) RE: Ohmygoshi. I HAVE A HOMELESS BOOB GRABBING STORY FOR YOU! One time I was walking up the subway stairs at Bryant Park and a homeless man unabashedly reached out and grabbed my boob. I think I actually wrote a post about it in either 2007 or early 2008. Frankly I'm too lazy to look for it. But yes. Homeless man. My boob. Interaction.

Katie said...

I think the most important take-away here is that its impolite to ask a homeless person for change in the midst of a bad economy.

sean said...

I can't believe i'm posting this on the internet. Get ready.

I was walking down the escalator at Metro Center, and at the bottom was this guy panhandling for change. I had some, so I gave it to him, and he asks, "You got anymore? I want a SANGWICH (this he yells like a preacher at a church in Alabama, just asking for an AMEN)."

I told him I didn't.

He reacted by screaming "I WANT A GODDAMN SANGWICH" and groping at my chest like a crackhead who bought flour and THINKS MY TITS ARE HIS FIX.

And I'm a dude. Sean isn't short for Seana or Seanette or Seaninore.


2b1b: The sardonic voice of 20-somethings everywhere, Monday through Friday. said...

Dear Seanette:

I want to grope your chest and eat a sangwhich.



sean said...

As long as there's rapping involved somehow, I'm in.

Anonymous said...

Re: 1.) Washington, DC residents are not good Samaritans.

Truth. I've got nothing against DC, but DC sure has less-than-passive aggression out for me. Something along the lines of this happened to me once on a French metro--the Frenchies rose up and threw him out at the next stop--and several times in our fair district where, to this day, I'm not convinced I didn't play victim to a few deaf-mute tour groups.

For Christ's sake, D.C., that means France one-upped you. I just... I can't.

Anonymous said...

oh as much as i loved you before, i love you even more for that UVA shout-out. not that it's a real one. but just a little.

i just moved closer into the city part of my city. i'm looking forward to experiences like these.

Erin said...

wowzer. High class bitch = new favorite song

Anonymous said...

you need a patch for your old skool bag, fool.

2b1b: The sardonic voice of 20-somethings everywhere, Monday through Friday. said...

I know right? I'll get a High Clazz Bitch patch for it. They're my new favorite band.

Anonymous said...

but really, have you seen this?


Kevin said...

Ken Seely would have rescued you. He's cool like that.

Anonymous said...


Good post

Razorblade Brain said...

"freelance body guard"

Sheesh. I guess that makes me a freelance seated digitized posterior insertion specialist....since I mostly do sit around with my thumb up my ass.

Good to know that we can turn our negs into pos with a simple play on words. I like the idea of a rap, but it would be super cool if it was classic DC Go-Go. Like "High Clazz Bitch (Doin' da Butt.)

Caroline said...

i think this post was amazing. homeless people are ridiculous. whenever a homeless man approaches me and asks for money i make him pinkie promise that he won't use it on drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, or sex. usually they say they can't make that promise and i give them the money anyway, because at least they were honest. i laughed out loud imaging the homeless man stopping the car for you. epic. i love this blog more and more with every post you make.

Grant said...

I just remembered a panhandler story to go with my racial tension story. A few months ago, in the winter sometime I suppose, I was walking to the train at West 4th in the Village and a panhandler asked me for money. I usually don't stop for these guys, but something about this one made me think it might be worth my while. Boy was I right.

As I was digging through my pocket and realizing I didn't have any change (I probably spent it on a Payday bar in the library vending machine earlier in the day) and wondering what to do I was chatting with the guy about this and that. The weather, you know, the basics. Suddenly he gets a big grin on his face and shouts "I got a girl back at the shelter, I'ma go EAT HER PUSSY."

I gave him a dollar, paper cash money, and wished him a great evening.

Anonymous said...

BB I totally know this homeless man! Well, I don't know him but I am very familiar with him after he licked his toothless mouth, made creepy eyes at me and said "Oooo I want you to be my wife. "
Meg- I am giggling like a schoolgirl on my bus ride home and I thank you for that.

2b1b: The sardonic voice of 20-somethings everywhere, Monday through Friday. said...

Re: Grant- That was a heartwarming story. For remember kids, you're never homeless if you have a roof over your head and a pussy to eat.

2b1b: The sardonic voice of 20-somethings everywhere, Monday through Friday. said...

I just threw up at my own comment. I'm so sorry.

Unknown said...

Ummm ... Grant's stories are amazing.

andrea said...

Last night as I was locking up my bike, a crazy drunk homeless man, who, to be fair, was already screaming as I pulled up, saw me and proceeded to start screaming at me. My boyfriend saw this from where he was talking with friends in front of the bar, and very chivalrously (word?) came to my aid. He said "Don't worry, I'm right here", and I proceeded to tell him that I was okay, and he didn't need to come running.
After reading this post, I feel like an ass, and I'm going to go home and smooch my boyfriend right on the mouth for being around to rescue me from the crazies.

Jaybuls said...

Priceless (homeless) memories:

1. I once had a homeless man (not in THAT way, mind you), in the middle of trying to convince me he wasn't crazy, say to me "Yo, look man, I'm wearing a sweater" (he was), "So you KNOW I'm not a crackhead." I wasn't aware of a crackhead dresscode.

2. I was once entertained by two homeless young men; ages around 27-30 both "Do Da Stanky Leg" in front of me and some friends. After this, they proceeded to hound us for money for at least five blocks. Also, their version of "Da Stanky Leg" was quite literal in this case.

holly pocket said...

OMF-ingG...I almost pissed myself in the middle of campus while reading this!

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