Homelessness Is a Symptom of a Larger Problem

Be careful how you treat people

It was a hot summer afternoon at the bus terminal. The terminal was patrolled by contract security officers during the day. I was the security officer working that afternoon.

I saw the the homeless man stumble as he crossed the street heading to the terminal. He headed straight to the Men’s room.

“ AH shit.” I muttered as I followed right behind him. I could see his legs under the door. He was sitting on the toilet with his pants up and his backpack between his legs.

I let him alone and resumed my patrol. I knew I didn’t need to wait too long. Several minutes later he stumbled out and almost made it to a bench before he passed out.

I took out my phone and walked over to see if he was still alive. He was breathing but unconscious. I called the cops. I watched with a satisfied smile as the cops trespassed the drunk at my request.

He had regained consciousness. I ignored the man’s pleas as an officer wrote out the citation and I gave “ The Speech.” “ You are trespassed from this bus terminal because you are intoxicated. If security sees you at the terminal we will call the police and have you arrested. Do you understand?”

He begged and pleaded. “ But we’re friends. You can’t do this.” At the officer’s prodding he finally said he understood. He was taken into custody to sleep it off.

I was on cloud nine as I went to the janitor’s closet the guards used as in office to write my report. I loved trespassing homeless people. I thought about that job years later. When I was homeless.

I enjoyed that job too much.

“ They’re all nuts.” I thought that first evening. As I waited in the cramped room full of men with backpacks. I felt like a tourist with my over-night bag on the floor between my legs.

I sat quietly. Most of the men were talking to the guy across from them or the guy next to them. But a lot them were talking to themselves.

And they were not just talking. Some of them stared vacantly or laughed at nothing. They were all mentally ill or under the influence of one substance or another.

A few months later. I felt right at home.

I had been battling emotional and mental health issues for years. That two and a half years in Minneapolis damned near did me in.

Most of the homeless I met were mentally ill. Some of us were worse off than others. When I worked security I wondered why they didn’t pick themselves up and try to get out of that life.

The answer is most of them can’t.

I was fortunate. I met a woman online that believed in me. She gave me a reason not to drink or get high. If I would have succumbed to that temptation I would still be homeless today.

More needs to be done to help the mentally ill in this country. The people I met never talked about it, but I’m sure they felt forgotten. I would have if I hadn’t had a woman to talk to online. A woman I would eventually marry.

I met a lot of folks that did it to themselves. But a lot of them couldn’t help where they were. Since I got out of that life I no longer look at people signing on the corner in contempt. I was tempted to make a sign and find my own corner. But I didn’t fall that far.

Please be careful how you look at the less fortunate. Don’t be brought down low like I was before you learn some compassion.

Signing is what they called it when they made a sign out of cardboard with a sob story so they could get money for booze.