Or in this case, a bum is not a hobo, but a hobo could be a rectangle.
No wait, a hobo can be a bum just as a square can be a rectangle.
I was awful at Geometry. And osmosis. The stuff is on the outside so the water goes out? Or does the water go in? I know it all has to do with making things equal, but I only ever think about it now when I see my pruned up fingers for being in the shower or the pool too long. That confuses me even more. Because there's "stuff" in the water, but there's also way more water so I'm never really sure if I'm pruney because the water goes in and makes me super saturated or if the water goes out leaving me dry. If the latter is true, then I don't understand how because I am in enough water to sink a small boat (possibly a pirogue?). At least when I'm in the pool there's that much water as I do not have a 12000+ gallon tub. I think after a certain gallon-age, a tub becomes a pool. So, thinking about geometry, if a square is a rectangle, but a rectangle cannot be a square, does this mean a tub can be a pool but a pool cannot be a tub? Or can a pool be a tub and a tub be a pool? Whatever, I learned to recognize triangles in relation to Doritos and I put smiley faces on all my proofs. I made an A. Full on 100 to be exact. Don't hate.
Aside from the fact that the Universe invented things like Geometry and Osmosis to confuse me and make whine to my high school teachers, it also made homeless people. What harm can homeless people be you say? Plenty.
Prior to writing this, I wanted to make sure I was using correct terminology as to ensure as little backlash as possible. I looked up "hobo" as that's what I call 'em. Apparently a hobo is a traveling worker, where a tramp travels but doesn't work, and a bum neither travels nor works. Hobos even have codes to tell other hobos things and there's like a code of ethics. My worldview (at least of the homeless) has just been turned upside. They're more organized than a Kmart!
That being said, regardless of work ethic, organization, or distance travel/to be traveled, I will refer to the homeless as hobos still. At least for this post and in conversation with those around me.
I digressed, I apologize.
Hobos are secret agents of the universe. They don't inconvenience me, however, they scare me or make me more uncomfortable than watching a sex scene in a movie with my parents. And not only this, but either 1) the universe has painted a giant sign only visible to the crazy hobos above my head that says "Talk to this guy" or 2) it has equipped ALL of them with some sort of locator device that allows them to find me in a crowd of 9 million—or just 17— people. I have only seen this level of "spot the person" skill exhibited by two other folks: Batman and anyone from the IRS.
While there are many encounters with the homeless-kind, let me provide you with the more exciting examples.
Example # 1: I'm in a train station in Belgium. I'm drinking a sprite. My "someone is near you" sense went off to my rear left. I thought it was my friend who recently went to the restroom. Then, I did an inventory of those I was with. To my upper left, my mother and father. To my upper right, my aunt, my uncle, and my said friend. At this point, I become uncomfortable. I look to my side. There is a man, with a freakish grin and wide eyes looking at me. He motions the "drink motion" then nods and walks off.
AT NO POINT DID ANYONE IN MY PARTY WARN OR ASSIST ME IN THIS ENCOUNTER!
Example# 2: Recently (read Today), I was at a hospital. I stepped outside of the ER room and into the wilderness that is the parking lot to make a phone call. I like to follow some rules and not call people from cell phone restricted areas. Why? Because the universe will make it so that my one phone call will stop someone's pacemaker. I can't handle that kind of pressure. Too much responsibility. So, as I'm walking in, a hobo with his bags asks me if I can take him because he lives close by. I tell him (honestly) that I can't because I'm with a patient and have no idea when I'll be leaving. He asks me to consider it and I tell him again that this just isn't a realistic option because in theory he could wait for hours for me to leave when he could just walk and be there faster. As I start to walk away, he follows. And then loudly proclaims "I'm not making you do it!"
At this point in my day, I've had too much sass. I boldly turn around on one heel, tilt my head like a disgruntled yet confused bird of prey and say "You're right, you're not making me do it and I'm not going to consider the offer because I was nice about it at first but you continue to ask when I've said that I am unable to. So please, stop asking!" He then asks me for a light to which I reply "I do not smoke, therefore I do not have a light" and proceed to take my belongings out of my pocket and dangle/jingle them in the air like a true smart ass then walk back in. About 3 hours later, after leaving to get food I return to the hospital to find this man sitting the in ER room next to mine in hand cuffs and a hospital gown with 2 police officers. Poor man? Oh no, he should know you don't cause trouble outside of a hospital when you've had a bit too much brandy. Or whatever it is was on his breath.
Example #3: This one time I was walking down the streets of Knoxville wearing a Superman logo shirt. I like comics, don't judge me. Then I hear this deep, booming voice from my right say "HEY SUPAHMAN, HEY SUPAHMAN!" Imagine James Earl Jones but with a hint or two of vodka. Yeah, that. I look to my right to see a tall, scruffy, Dallas Cowboys jacketed African American male with blood shot eyes walking towards me to ask me if he could ask me a question. I tell the man I am in a hurry and we part ways.
While not an awful encounter, this man proved to be the Rain Man of the Hobos. Every time I was walking in Knoxville, I walked in fear of the Dallas Cowboys Jacket. You know how when you go in public and you see that person you don't want to talk to, you go out of your way to avoid them. Say you'll cross the street or go down the feminine hygiene and family planning aisle. Whatever it takes, your pride and/or safety are not a factor in avoiding this person. Well, that's how it was for me. I'd step out and look as far down the strip as possible to see if I could see the James Earl Hobo. If I spotted the jacket, I waited til later for food and found a back way. A few times I tried to hide myself in a group of people or by wearing a hoodie. Or both. In the cover of the moonless night. While using a cloaking device from the future.
He still found me. Every. Time. I'd hear from across the 4 lane road "HEY SUPAHMAN!" And no, I did not wear my ONE superman logo shirt every time I left the dorm. I was lazy in college, not dirty. How this man remembered and spotted me baffles me to this day. He always wanted to ask me a question. Every time I said I was in a hurry. He was like "that's cool". One time the universe was especially hateful and made me wait at a cross walk like after I said I was in a hurry. My theory is that this man was Jesus and he wanted to see if I was nice. I guess I failed that one.
I did help a homeless from time to time. One dude told me he was put on the wrong bus from jail in Louisiana and was hungry and diabetic and hadn't eaten in 3 days and had kidney issues (yes, he said all this without the punctuation). After I told him I was going to Wendy's and he could tag along for a burger, I assumed he'd stop talking but then he told me he was jail for assaulting a police officer. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I feel like if someone offers to buy you a meal, you stop talking about being a criminal. In the end, he got two cheeseburgers, some fries and a diet coke. Because diabetics are only allowed to drink Diet Coke.
So to recap:
1) Triangles are Doritos.
2) Osmosis is a hard concept to absorb.
3) Cloaking devices do not exist in this time period.
4) Don't play "Where's Waldo?" with hobo in a Dallas Cowboys Jacket. He'll always win.
Universe: 3. Me: 1
Yes, I get 1 point. .5 for buying the dude food, .25 for respecting cell phones and pacemakers, .25 because the sassy hobo got cuffed.
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