#295 Spend Christmas Eve as a Homeless Person
Just an FYI, this is probably the longest post I’ve ever written but it’s also the most important and I hope you read all of it. I’ve tried to break it up into sections to help readability.
Two previous scary things I’d done with homeless people (giving water and having dinner) lead me to today’s scary thing: I would spend Christmas Eve as a homeless person.
Why Christmas Eve? When I first got the idea of living as homeless person, I thought about what time of year would be hardest. Firs thought was immediately, the holidays. What was the loneliest holiday of all? Christmas of course. But I find Christmas Eve to be the day that more people stay in for. The day people spend with their loved ones. On Christmas, after the morning, people are out and about, eating, going to movies.
Next I had to think about the logistics. Downtown LA was the clear choice for location. Skid Row is the main homeless person area in LA. How would I get there? At first I thought I would take the metro down but then I realized it made much more sense to park my car somewhere nearby. It seemed safer than having to rely on the metro to get home since it stops running at midnight.
Would I carry anything on me? I thought about bringing my phone but I wouldn’t want it to get stolen. Then I thought about getting a cheap prepaid phone for emergencies. But since I was parking my car nearby, I felt like I could always get back there, even in an emergency. No money or ID one me for sure. I’d hide my car key on me but if that got lost somehow, I had given a key to a friend in case. The decision to bring the next item didn’t come easily. It was a spring assisted tactical knife.
I’ve had basic knife training. I know that carrying a knife is a big deal. Because once you take it out, you intend to do bodily harm to somebody. You can get arrested for that. Your knife can also be taken away from you and used against you. But it can be an advantage in a desperate situation. I felt better having it on me than not. I tucked it away as a last resort. I didn’t think this was being too paranoid. Who knows what could happen on the streets? I also let several people know what I was doing in case something went wrong.
What was I going to wear? I decided on some grungy clothes that I wore paintballing. They were dirty and stained and covered in drops of paint. I also bought a cheap jacket at a used clothing store. A winter cap completed the look:
How long was I going to stay out there? Originally, being the ambitious twat that I am, I wanted to stay overnight. Realistically, I knew this probably wasn’t going to happen so I settled on midnight as a good compromise.
Now that the logistics were set, I headed downtown at around 3pm. I was pretty nervous. I didn’t know what to expect. I parked my car on 2nd street near the freeway. There were metered spots in front of an apartment building that were kind of on the outskirts of downtown where I thought my car would be safe since I’d be keeping valuables in there.
Panhandling
What would I do first? Since it was Christmas Eve, late afternoon, I figured there would still be a lot of people shopping. I decided to go to Seventh street by the Macy’s and try some panhandling so I could have money for the night.
I sat down right on the sidewalk at Seventh Street, took off my hat and flipped it upside down in front of me. Then I did my best to look pathetic. I couldn’t bring myself to say, “Spare change?” For one thing, it was so cliché. For another, it was just really difficult. Once I said that, there was no denying that I was begging for money. It seemed like a long time passed before anything happened. Some people looked at me and the hat but nobody gave any money.
Finally, an older Mexican woman dropped a dollar in my hat and gave me a pamphlet about Jesus saving me. Religious people are so helpful. I guess it’s like a tip jar. If you see money in it you’re more likely to contribute. Another older woman dropped in dollar. A family passed and then a little girl came back with a dollar. That just broke my heart. Something similar happened again except this time it was a little boy. A few more women and a man also contributed dollars. Maybe it was Christmas or maybe I was just good at looking pathetic, but after an hour and a half or so I had 8 dollars. That was enough for a meal. One thing I didn’t have to worry about tonight.
By the way, I’m donating $80 ($10 for every $1 I got panhandling) to the LA Mission since I don’t really need the 8 dollars I got. Edit: I decided to donate the suggested $101.50 to help 50 people.
Skid Row
Next I headed over to Skid Row. I had been to the outskirts of Skid Row before. In fact, just the other week, I didn’t DRIVE down a street near Skid Row because it looked too scary. Now I was headed over there on foot. An interesting thing that happened on the way there was I passed by an older black homeless man on a bench. We made eye contact and he gave me a head nod and a little wave. I supposed acknowledging me as a fellow homeless person.
The sun had gone down by the time I got to the outskirts of Skid Row. I saw a huge crowd of homeless people around a pickup truck. From the truck, a Mexican family was handing out tamales and snacks. I got a snack bag from a boy, around twelve years old. “Merry Christmas!” he said cheerfully. The mother handed me two tamales. I took it to the sidewalk and tasted a bit of it, so I didn’t look out of place.
All around me, maybe fifty homeless people were eating. I didn’t feel very nervous. I looked like I fit in, at least as much as a 6’3” Asian homeless guy can.
I gave my tamales and snacks away since I didn’t want to take food from someone who needed it. Nobody really looked at me or paid attention to me. I saw a street that lead to a darker area, where some people were walking to. The heart of skid row. I decided to check it out.
As I got closer, I noticed a shift. It was much less lively than it was where the free food was given out. It was darker, not only in lighting but in mood. Then I turned a corner and I was in the middle of Skid Row on San Julian Street.
I’m not exaggerating when I say it was a scene straight out of a post-apocalyptic movie. The street had no cars. Huge amounts of trash littered the curb and street. Piles of it. Homeless people lined every inch of the sidewalks, obscured by the shadows. With all the people, it was still eerily quiet. There were only a few meager streetlights in the area.
I walked along and tried not to stare at everyone. Most were just sitting and eating or drinking. Some were milling about, standing. I was offered drugs about four times by the time I made it to the end of the block where “normal” civilization started again. And by “normal” I mean what would’ve scared me only yesterday. I looked back at Skid Row, just to make sure it was real. It was.
After checking out the Mission building, I wandered around the outskirts just observing. I felt completely safe in my “disguise.” Again, nobody paid any attention to me unless they were trying to sell me drugs.
There were homeless people in tents in the outskirts. Any dark street or semi-private area, I found a homeless person. Eventually I made me my way out and found myself near Little Tokyo.
Little Tokyo
I went to one of the outdoor malls to look for a bathroom. I had to go pretty badly at that point. I also wanted to clean up my hands from the tamales I had gotten. I went into a cafe and was able to buy a bottle of water (which was TWO BUCKS) and use the bathroom. The bathroom was a quiet little refuge where I could relieve myself, clean up and take a little breather from my experiment which had already been intense.
Refreshed, I went outside and sat on a bench outside a different cafe. There was a TV inside which I could see from outside. I watched a little as I started to get drowsy. It was strange seeing the people walk by. I wondered if they saw me and what they thought of me. Nobody really reacted to me. I guess for a homeless person, I really didn’t look bad. I still looked healthy and my clothes weren’t filthy. I could just be a shabby chic hipster.
Dinner
I realized I was hungry since I’d only had a few bites of tamale. I had 6 dollars and went to look for a pizza place. I couldn’t find one but managed to find a little hole-in-the-wall Mexican joint. I ordered a burrito ($4.50) and sat down the counter and ate. Then another homeless man came in and ordered a burrito. He ate it and then refused to pay. He was clearly drunk. The cashier and him got into an argument. A few moments later a cop came in. The homeless man argued with him. “Where do you live sir? The mission?” the cop asked, the place where I’d just been.
The man was still being difficult until the cop asked,”How much have you had to drink tonight?” Like a switch, the homeless man became apologetic. I realized that he knew the cop was implying he could take him to jail for public intoxication. Eventually, the man paid and the cop escorted him out. I took that as my cue to leave.
North Downtown
I felt better with a full stomach. I decided to go over the court house area in North Downtown next. It was a ghost town over there since there are very few restaurants. I passed by City Hall where I had done my occupy LA posts. It had been cleared out with fences erected around the perimeter. Strange to see it that way.
I made my way over to the Disney Concert Hall. I sat in a little park area across the street where I had nice view of the high rises downtown. There was not a lot of traffic, cars or people here so it felt peaceful. I felt drowsy again so I figured I’d try to take a nap to see what that would be like homeless.
I curled up on a stone bench, pulled my hat over my eyes and tried to sleep. I couldn’t even though I was pretty exhausted. I was too scared. I jumped at every noise, thinking somebody was sneaking up on me. That’s when I understood why homeless people sleep where they sleep. If you sleep out in the open, it’s too easy for someone to sneak up on you. If you sleep with your back to a wall, you’re a bit safer. The whole rest of the night, I found myself looking for private areas where I could possibly spend the night. After trying to sleep for a little while longer, I gave up and started walking again because there was nothing else to do.
That’s the thing I noticed being homeless. Time draws out. You look for anything to do to fill the long stretches. In a way, I noticed a lot of similarities when I tried solitary confinement. I had all the time in the world but felt agitated. I couldn’t concentrate on anything.
The Marriot
I decided to try and kill some time in the lobby of the Marriot on Figueroa. It would be warm inside. There would probably be a TV I could watch. I also wanted to see if I would get kicked out eventually.
I walked into the lobby with no problems. I went up to the bar and asked how much a coke was. “3.50,” the bartender said giving me a funny look. Maybe because I was holding the only $1.50 I had to my name at that point. “But there’s vending machines on every floor.” I nodded and walked away. I found the restrooms and used them. When I came out, I sat down on a couch in front of a TV. I sat there for about fifteen minutes, wondering if the bartender was going to kick me out. But again, I think I didn’t look “homeless” enough.
If I ever really was homeless, I’d do everything in my power to maintain a respectable appearance. It seemed to allow me access to more places and better treatment. Because once you’re walking around wearing a garbage bag and kleenex boxes on your feet, your options are pretty much limited.
I probably could’ve stayed there the rest of the night but I wanted to go to Pershing Square next and check out the ice skating rink they had set up there.
Pershing Square
The skaters were still out in full force when I arrived. I’d never seen the skating rink setup there before. I sat down at one of the tables across the rink. There was Christmas music playing and at first it was nice. But then slowly it got to be depressing. Everyone with their loved ones. Everyone having fun. What was I doing? Putting myself in a self-enforced exile. This was Christmas Eve and I was pretending to be homeless for what? Being homeless is so gut-wrenchingly lonely, despite being surrounded by people. You feel like you’re in a glass jar.
It was hard not to just head back to my car at that point and try to salvage the evening. But of course I couldn’t do that.
I noticed a homeless man sit down at the table next to me with a few bags of his belongings. He nodded at me. After a few moments, he walked over to me. “Is this it? I thought there would be a party here or something,” he said referring to the skating rink I guess. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a candy cane left over from the free food I got. “Candy cane?”
“Sure!” he said taking it. Then he walked away from the tables, towards a food truck parked across the square.. Halfway over, he looked back at me and yelled, “Hey!” I looked up. He pointed to his eyes then his bags. I nodded.
He came back a short while later. “They wanted FOUR BUCKS for a little bottle of apple juice. Can you believe that?” I shook my head. He sat back down at his table. We sat in silence for awhile until the skating rink closed up and the last of the skaters were leaving. The homeless man started packing up his things. I walked over to his table.
“You’re taking off?” I asked. “Yeah, how about you?” he said. “I guess. Where are you going? Can I walk with you?” I asked. “Sure,” he replied.
Vick
We began walking. I asked him what his name was. Vick. I asked him questions about his life. He was a lot more coherent and lucid than the man I had dinner with. Turns out he’s from Oregon. He served three tours of duty in Iraq, got shot, came home and became addicted to pain meds. He had been homeless in LA for 8 months after he moved down from Oregon.
He asked me some questions. I gave a vague backstory about coming to LA a month ago from SF. I lost my job up there and was staying with a friend down here in Korea Town but he just kicked me out.
“Where’s all your stuff?” he asked. “Back at my friend’s place,” I said after thinking for a moment.
We stopped by a 7-11 where Vick asked me if I wanted a drink. “I’ll buy you whatever you want.” I thanked him but said no. It touched me that he would offer that though. When he came out, he asked me if I drank alcohol. I said I was trying to be clean while I was on the streets. “You ever do drugs?” he asked. I said I’d done pretty much everything except crack. “Oh, well if you want to smoke crack with me we can.” He had been carrying around a flask but now he opened up a secret compartment in the bak where there were little baggies of drugs.
“I got everything. Crack, heroin, crystal. If you want.” I told him I was good. “I got a drug problem,” he said sheepishly. “It’s smart you’re trying to stay clean.”
I asked him where he was staying tonight. “Come on, I’ll show you. I got a real good spot on the street up here.”
As we walked, he asked me if I had been to Skid Row. I said yes. “Man! That place is a trip isn’t? It’s desolate over there. People trying to sell you drugs and shit.” It sort of surprised me that he said that since he was homeless. But I guess it just showed he was put together a bit better than most guys on the street.
The place where he was staying was the doorway of a small office. “I got my blankets stolen the other night when I was sleeping. It’s pretty rough out here. You gotta watch your back.” I nodded. “Oh, lemme show you this place, SHARE.” It was a place where homeless people could use the internet and have access to job placement services. Vick was really trying to help me out.
“You got a girl back home? Or a guy? Whatever?” he laughed. “Yeah, a girl. I did at least,” I said. “Oh yeah? What happened?” he asked.
“She left when I lost my job,” I lied. “Couldn’t buy her the bling anymore huh?” he said and laughed again.
“Yeah, can you blame her?” I said. “Well yeah, you kinda can. Through thick and thin and all that right?” he said.
I nodded. “It’s tough being alone during the holidays isn’t it?” he asked me.
“Yeah. Yeah it is,” I said, not lying anymore.
When we were back in the doorway, he started going through his things and he pulled out a torch, the kind people use to smoke crack with. He was going to smoke crack. “You’re not a cop are you?” he asked. “No,” I said. “Ok, just checking,” he said.
“Uh, do you want me to keep a look out?” I asked. “You can if you want,” he said. “See? You got a good head on your shoulders.” But first he had to refill the torch since it was out. While he was doing that, I pondered my situation.
Was I really going to stand here while he smoked crack? If the cops came, I’d be fucked. I was with someone smoking crack and I had a knife on me. Also, the gravity of the situation hit me. My experiment had gotten too real. I could walk away from all this, Vick couldn’t. This was his life and I was playing a game.
“Hey, I think I’m gonna go to my friends and see if I can spend the night there,” I said. “Ok man. Well, be careful out there,” he said. “Thanks man,” I said and I walked away.
Home
It wasn’t midnight yet but I decided to call it. To get back to my car, I had to go through the Second Street tunnel. When I got in there, I saw about ten homeless people all up and down the sidewalk sleeping. It felt strange, going through that brightly lit cylinder of concrete, passing by the homeless people on the ground. Almost like the tunnel was some sort of transforming machine that after I walked through it, I’d come out of the other side a regular person, no longer homeless.
When I got to my car, I sat there in the dark. I had only been out there for 8 hours but I’ll remember everything I saw for the rest of my life. I thought about the people who helped me by giving me money. I thought about the nameless faces in the shadows in Skid Row. I thought about the loneliness. I thought about Vick and wondered what would happen to him. I thought about how good we all have it but most of us are closer than we think to being on the streets.
I also thought about SYED and how I have to be careful with the scary things I do. Not just for me, but for the people I end up interacting with. I always have to treat them with respect and be as honest as I can be.
Then I started up my car and headed home.
