I will start this story by pointing out some obvious facts. First, no one plans or sets out to be homeless. Second, a lot of homeless people do not like to panhandle. In fact some fellow homeless people have said to me “I don’t know how you do it,” or, “I couldn’t ask people for money.” All homeless people are not the same, of course, and carry their experience with homelessness differently. For those of you reading this story who can’t imagine yourself in the homeless position, just take a few minutes to think about what you would do to survive if you suddenly became homeless.
I last wrote about Bob, the man whose offer I accepted to skip a frigid night outside and take shelter in his home, with “no funny business.” His promise didn’t hold true, but neither did my integrity to resist taking money from his unwatched billfold after fending off his advances. Bob was not the end of me going into a stranger’s home to survive, but the beginning.
March of 2018 proved to be the weirdest part of the homeless experience so far. For the purpose of eating a decent meal, I decided to get a second flu shot. (The first was offered with a $25 dollar gift card). Nevertheless, I managed to catch the flu or deep flu-like symptoms.
I could not afford to be sick because I was staying in a toxic and insensitive shelter environment. I was at my wit’s end and getting sicker and sicker, on top of carrying around all of my belongings in very heavy bags and looking after my service dog, Bella.
I did not want to take medicine that made me sleep deep because I would be at risk of theft in the shelter. My cell phone had already been stolen while I was too relaxed and naïve. I figured the best thing I could do was sleep sitting up so if anyone tried to steal my stuff I would be on alert. I didn’t want to go to the hospital because, believe it or not, I always got trouble about my service dog.
One night, I almost didn’t make it to the hyperthermia shelter because the shelter van was late. But God had to be looking out for me because it was very cold and I probably would have died out there if the van didn’t come, which has happened before. I made it to the shelter safe and sound, but it was like 10 p.m. and I still wasn’t feeling too good. I tried to read a book to stay awake but ended up nodding off while sitting up.
It was about 3 a.m. when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I thought I was dreaming when I opened my eyes to see a woman standing over me with this weird confused smile on her face. My first thought was she was trying to steal from me, so I didn’t have the greatest attitude. But she simply asked “Where is the restroom?”
Half asleep and upset, I responded, “Why me, ma’am? The staff is up front.”
But, of course, the staff was sleeping and I’m pretty sure I didn’t help her find the bathroom. I wanted to get some sleep because wake up time was 5 a.m. Later that same morning, as I was preparing to leave the shelter, I encountered her again. She was no illusion, and she seemed to gravitate toward me. She introduced herself as Shelley and went on to tell me she was in some sort of accident with her car and it had something to do with Sarah McLachlan, the musician.
The story she told me seemed possible yet bizarre. She said she needed to get in touch with Sarah to straighten everything out. And, if I helped her, Sarah would give me money or help me and my service dog any way she could. I wanted to believe her for the simple fact she had on fairly decent clothes — a leather Harley Davidson jacket that looked brand new and nice shoes and pants — but you can’t always judge a book by the cover.
I told Shelley I have met a lot of people that promise this and that and don’t follow through, so I take whatever you say with a grain of salt. After I said that, she gave me a funny look, but it did not keep her from following me around. She needed cigarettes which I could supply at the time and I had a little money — $25 I was holding onto for dog food and emergencies.
I have to admit, it was nice having help with my heavy bags from a woman who wanted nothing more than a cigarette and friend she could trust in a strange place. After listening to her for a while I started to get bits and pieces of how she ended up in the shelter. She was in some sort of accident with her SUV, lost her memory, and someone had been trying to contact her on her phone but her phone did not work. It turned out all her phone needed was a charge, so we headed to the library where she learned I owned a laptop and other gadgets that I guess she didn’t expect me to have.
I was still feeling the symptoms of the flu shot and was not going to be able to deal with her issues until I had a brandy and headache powder to keep me warm and in less pain. So, off to the liquor store we went. Little did I know that entering this liquor store would give Shelley the opportunity to save my life.
I liked this particular store because the prices were low and the owner understood Bella was my service dog. Every now and then, a customer has freaked out over my dog. Mind you, she is a small Pomeranian, but some people act as if she is a pit bull. This trip to the liquor store would prove to be one of those times.
A customer challenged me and my service dog with violence. She knocked me to the ground and hit me in the head with a wine bottle. The more I fought back, the more violent she got. The other customers were stunned. My dog ran to Shelley, who was waiting for me outside, which caused Shelley to look into the store and see me down on the floor with this crazed woman brandishing a wine bottle over me and yelling “I’m going to cut your eye out!”
Shelley shouted that she knew me and had called the police. Next thing I knew, the girl ran away and Shelley helped me up. I temporarily lost my memory, that’s how hard that girl hit me. I forgot who I was, I forgot where I was. I didn’t even know who Shelley was. My life was in her hands.
When she helped me recall who I was, I finally understood what she was going through being in a strange place with a fragmented memory. And I understood what I had to do — or at least I thought I did. This would take me and Bella into the world of the unknown to help a fellow traveler. Both of us lost, both of us strangers.
This leads me to my next and final story, “Stranger Danger, Part 3: The Norfolk Experience.”
