hoboweight champion
A hobo tried to jack my beer as I was walking home from Dominick's tonight.
I was walking by the notoriously sketchy Howard Station on a night where it was even darker than usual, I have no idea what was up with the lack of streetlights. A heroin addict looking old white guy in cutoff jean shorts, a ripped up AC/DC shirt, and combat boots starts walking directly towards me and he tries to do this shoulder check thing while trying to grab the case of Leinenkugel Red I'd grabbed in addition to the change I had gotten for laundry at the store. I dodge out of the way, yelling:
"Don't you fucking touch me!" I bellowed. The guy immediately gets up in my face and tells me that because I disrespected him, he's going to jack my shit. I stared him in the bleary eye and snarled fuck you, I don't think so, get the fuck out of my way, I'm going home.
"Fuck you ain't goin' home! Give me a fucking beer or I'm taking your shit!"
"I don't think so. I'm going home."
He faltered for a second and then put his hands in his pockets, stuck his chin out, and told me I could have one free shot in exchange for a beer.
I stared at him with utter disgust, shook my head, and then walked down the street and ducked into the corner store where I get a Monster on the way to the station every morning. He didn't follow, but I was checking over my shoulder the entire ten minute walk home and mentally preparing to flag down one of the cop cars that passed that street every 30 seconds if he had reappeared. He didn't.
I'm still shaking from the adrenaline I had in this encounter, because I can't remember being this angry in quite awhile. If the guy had put his hands on me I'm pretty sure I would have just dropped the beer and beaten the piss out of him. I'm not by nature a violent person, but whenever anyone tries to invade my comfort zone on that level I can do some pretty drastic things.
I believe there should be a Hobo Code. If you want to beg for a living, that's fine. Some people will simply never find themselves with the motivation or wherewithal to get a job like normal society. Every job I've ever had was pretty much based on luck or connections and there are people who have none. It should be up to the individual person to decide whether they want to ignore, respond, or acquiesce to the request of said hobo. Like if I've got leftovers and somebody on the way home asks for them, 9 times out of 10 I'll give them up because the person who is asking probably needs them a lot more than I do. If the guy had been like 'hey buddy, can I get one of those beers?' I'd most likely have given him one as I'm not a total dick.
The violation of the Hobo Code is when you just try to take it though. That infuriates me beyond all belief and leads to the encounter tonight. I'd rather not do this on a daily basis, but if it happens again I imagine it will be worse.
I was walking by the notoriously sketchy Howard Station on a night where it was even darker than usual, I have no idea what was up with the lack of streetlights. A heroin addict looking old white guy in cutoff jean shorts, a ripped up AC/DC shirt, and combat boots starts walking directly towards me and he tries to do this shoulder check thing while trying to grab the case of Leinenkugel Red I'd grabbed in addition to the change I had gotten for laundry at the store. I dodge out of the way, yelling:
"Don't you fucking touch me!" I bellowed. The guy immediately gets up in my face and tells me that because I disrespected him, he's going to jack my shit. I stared him in the bleary eye and snarled fuck you, I don't think so, get the fuck out of my way, I'm going home.
"Fuck you ain't goin' home! Give me a fucking beer or I'm taking your shit!"
"I don't think so. I'm going home."
He faltered for a second and then put his hands in his pockets, stuck his chin out, and told me I could have one free shot in exchange for a beer.
I stared at him with utter disgust, shook my head, and then walked down the street and ducked into the corner store where I get a Monster on the way to the station every morning. He didn't follow, but I was checking over my shoulder the entire ten minute walk home and mentally preparing to flag down one of the cop cars that passed that street every 30 seconds if he had reappeared. He didn't.
I'm still shaking from the adrenaline I had in this encounter, because I can't remember being this angry in quite awhile. If the guy had put his hands on me I'm pretty sure I would have just dropped the beer and beaten the piss out of him. I'm not by nature a violent person, but whenever anyone tries to invade my comfort zone on that level I can do some pretty drastic things.
I believe there should be a Hobo Code. If you want to beg for a living, that's fine. Some people will simply never find themselves with the motivation or wherewithal to get a job like normal society. Every job I've ever had was pretty much based on luck or connections and there are people who have none. It should be up to the individual person to decide whether they want to ignore, respond, or acquiesce to the request of said hobo. Like if I've got leftovers and somebody on the way home asks for them, 9 times out of 10 I'll give them up because the person who is asking probably needs them a lot more than I do. If the guy had been like 'hey buddy, can I get one of those beers?' I'd most likely have given him one as I'm not a total dick.
The violation of the Hobo Code is when you just try to take it though. That infuriates me beyond all belief and leads to the encounter tonight. I'd rather not do this on a daily basis, but if it happens again I imagine it will be worse.
posted by zerodemocracy at
9:03 PM
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