since, coming to New Orleans, 3 months ago.
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| Sue's World |
I got two cans of Hurricane High Gravity Lager, in preparation for busking.
I was drinking them by the Popeye's dumpster, and digging for scraps of food therein, to throw to the pidgeons, so that they would be on the ground, rather than perched above me and aiming thier guano for my beer can.
These are some of the most accurate pidgeons in the world, here, where everything is "world class." They can put a tird in your beer so accurately that you will not even be tipped off to what happened by seeing anything around the edge of the drinking hole. It's similar to the Olympic diver who makes nary a splash.
A man, seeing me digging in the dumpster, handed me five dollars, and said "Here you go," and continued on.
I then had the money to give to the court as a "bond fee," ostensibly to insure my showing up for court on the next date, but probably serving another purpose, such as identifying the truely "indigent," so that they can be treated accordingly.
Homeless Court
I woke up at 7:56 a.m., four minutes before I was supposed to appear in Municipal Court.
I counted my money and (oops) had only 14 bucks. I must have miscounted the night before.
I went to the Walgreen's, planning upon asking someone if I could buy them a soda on my EBT card, in exchange for one dollar.
I found a lady who was going to the register with a couple bucks worth of stuff. I asked her if I could put her stuff on my card in exchange for a dollar and told her about my situation, where a dollar might keep me out of jail.
"I've got fourteen bucks, I just need one more," I said, showing her the 14 dollars.
No sooner had I showed her the 14 dollars when a beggar, whom I am familiar with, swooped in like a bird of prey and started begging me for a dollar. He must have thought that the lady was the one asking for money and that I was pulling my money out to give her some. This would paint me as the kind of sucker who gives to beggars which he preys upon, and he wouldn't be able to look himself in the mirror had he not tried to take advantage of me, and join in on the feeding frenzy.
I told him that I was a dollar short of paying my fine and that, this time, (unlike the other 50 times that I had seen him on the street,) it was me who needed the dollar. Imagine that...
Then, as is his habit, he tried to talk me out of a dollar. What is your ticket for? Oh, that's B.S., just don't pay it, they won't do anything, they've got more important tmatters. That's what I would do, trust me. So, now can I get a dollar? You've got 14, you said so yourself...
"It's people like him who make it hard for someone who really is in a bind," I said to the ladies back, as she walked away, having been overwealmed by a beggar begging a beggar, with her at the bottom of the food chain.
I was able to get a dollar from a young guy who was dressed in work clothes, and whom I offered to pay for his potato chips on my card in exchange for it. He seemed to believe my story, especially as I showed him the 14 bucks which I already had, keeping it down as I did.
I walked to the courthouse, getting there at 9:20. Sue was already there, as was Kooky, and a brown and white pidgeon, which she had in a bag. (It had injured a foot, and Sue was nursing it back to health.)
WE had been put on the docket for "Homeless Court."
Don't ask me what Homeless Court is, except that it has to do with the court continuing your case while you meet with various organizations, like "Unity," or "Metropolitan," who help you through the process of getting off the street.
There were a lot of "success stories" this morning, which we had to sit through, as defendants came forward, with one of the friendly councellors at his/her side and told the judge that they had just found work and that they were about to sign a lease for housing. This was met with rounds of applause for all.
The judge looked down at paperwork in front of him, noted that the person had done "everything we asked you to do," congratulated them, and dismissed the original charge. This happened to at least a dozen people.
Someone from "Metropolitan" talked to Sue, but made the blunder of asking her if she would take a "mental health" screening, as part of a process which could lead to her getting off the streets and having her charges dismissed.
She got offended, and became very animated in insisting that she wasn't crazy. She raved like a lunatic.
They asked her what she wanted. She told them a job (so she could buy a bus ticket to leave New Orleans,) or a bus ticket to leave New Orleans.
They set her court date for December 20th, as they did mine.
They didn't ask me to submit to any mental health evaluations, but of course, I didn't show up to the courthouse carrying a cat and a paper bag with a pidgeon jumping around in it.
A Jaunt To Fairhope?
I am considering taking the train to Mobile tomorrow, and then the bus to Fairhope for the Friday Art Walk, which I believe is on the third Friday of each month. I will need to Google that event to make sure that it is proceeding as scheduled.
It will be nice to get away for a while, and the money can't be any worse than the 11 dollars which I have made here the past two days -days on which I was desperately trying to make money to possibly stay out of jail.
The more I read about NOLA in your posts, the more HORRIBLE a place it seems to be. I mean, beggars THAT aggressive? Out here in we don't even honk our car horns, we're really mellow....
ReplyDeleteSo, you have discovered the power of the panhandle. You have done well, my son. As little as you're making busking out there, panhandling may end up being what gets you out of that hellhole to where you can busk.
It's sad that panhandling pays more. I made $2 an a bit less than an hour busking yesterday, and in that time if I'd gone around to people at the periphery of the parking lot, and politely asked for spare change, I'd likely have made $20.
One way to "soften" panhandling is to, after you get your 10c or $10 it should not matter, you give your benefactor a small gift, a hand-folded rose, or an origami bird or something. One guy in Santa Cruz folds teeny cranes with fingers the size of my big toes, and will just go up to people and hand 'em one, and he generally gets a buck or two or five. He's endearing, like a slightly lost Hobbit, and the cranes are so cool, I consider them lucky and always give him a buck.
I am ready to cringe if the person goes off on me "Don't ask me for shit, get away from me, you have two arms and legs, why can't you work. I do, I work my ass off for my money, nobody hands it to me etc. etc."
ReplyDeleteI think one incident like that and I would rather pick ashtrays and eat out of dumpsters
That's maybe 1% of the people go off on you, and they're chickenshits anyway, once you're 10 feet away from 'em after saying "Thanks", it becomes a non-issue. In fact, the people who actually could probably fuck you up are the ones who have the self-control to just say something like "not today" or "no, sorry" etc. The ones who go off are insecure cowards and you just say "thanks" nicely and move on, they just want to make a show in front of their friends (I've never seen an outburst by someone who's alone, it's always when they have some friends to show off what a hard-ass they are).
ReplyDelete*I* would rather pick ashtrays and eat out of dumpsters myself, which is why I don't panhandle now. But at the time, I had a place to stay, on a couch, and had to come up with $20 a day to pay for that. Which is too much, $10/day is more in line with the market now.
It's a good emergency skill.