Tuesday, January 11, 2011

In which Jeff's dream of being an explorer prepares him for hobohood.

Since my wife and I moved into our apartment 8 months ago, I've begun to develop some strange habits. One of them is that everywhere I go, whether on foot or otherwise, I notice places. And by "notice" I mean look for, and by "places" I mean possible areas in which a homeless person could sleep overnight without being mugged or stepped on by another human being. Now, you might think this is kind of strange. You'd be right.

I'm not exactly sure when or why this habit of mine started.  Maybe it stems from my child-like love of exploration. I love hiking off of the designated trail just to see where I'll end up, or the idea of exploring buildings that haven't been entered in a very long time.

But, since I've gotten older and moved away from the mountains and into the city, places where no one's ever been are harder to find. They have become necessarily smaller: behind that bush in the obscure little corner of my apartment complex or that little space beneath the freeway overpass.

It must have hit me one day that these kinds of places would be perfect for homeless people or drunken/stoned teenagers, because I no longer see them as places that are "untouched" or "mysterious" but rather, a place where a person could go about his secret business without being seen; where I could potentially hide from the world if I needed to. I'll glance at a place and think, "That would provide good cover from the rain, but the ground would make for an uncomfortable sleep" or, "that corner is dark enough that people would avoid it at night, plus it's close to several food establishment, which will offer a chance to obtain sustenance."

Or course, the Boy Scout in me likes to justify this strange habit: I'm being prepared. I'm observing my surroundings and preparing myself for the moment when I'm on the run from the law after being falsely accused (boy scouts shouldn't actually do bad things) of some terrible crime, or for when I get evicted from my apartment and every family member and friend within 200 miles is on vacation at once and I have no place to stay and no money to pay for a hotel.

So, you may think this is weird, and maybe it is, but we'll see who's laughing when the sun is setting and the zombies will be out at any moment and you don't know where to go. Don't come running to me, Mr. "Normal." Seriously, don't run. You'll just attract attention to our secret hideout. Just casually approach the overpass and caw like a crow so I know it's you. We'll need to stick together if we're going to survive.

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