Once upon a time I traveled with friend I grew up with to visit her sister in Oakland. By this point I had routine experiences with homeless people. At first I felt sympathy and always gave them change, then I disdained them as an annoyance, and then I stopped acknowledging them altogether. Then I visited an Oakland Walgreens at 2:00 a.m. after a night of partying with friends. It was there that it was impossible to ignore them. Two homeless men were asking for spare change outside the store. My friend Ashlee and I stayed outside while her sister shopped. One hobo was a thick black man, and the other was a skinny white guy. Both wore camouflage fatigues. They said they were war veterans. Maybe they were, or maybe it was a ploy to garner sympathy. The white guy said he would give us karate lessons for change, so I figured a funny story was worth 75 cents. He played around with some sad kicks and punches for a minute or two while we chuckled. Then the black guy stepped in. He said the key was to fight dirty. He told me always to "go for the nuts" in a brawl. "Okay," I thought, "it makes sense." Then he said he had a special move to teach me. He proceeded to mime the movements with me as the attacker. It started with a dick punch and ended with his hand around my throat. He didn't squeeze very hard, but he did let me know in a whisper "[I] could snap your neck like a chicken." I laughed, thanked him, and went on my way, never acknowledging just how close to death I might have been.
It's the opposite of my situation.
