BUMS

It’s beautiful outside today. So in accordance with the good weather, I took a break from the action down at the City Plaza. For a few brief moments this particular plaza—which I normally hate—seemed quite serene. The sun shining, children splashing in the fountains, and then suddenly a raspy voice: “Pink Floyd…what a phenomenal band.”

This was the voice of a roaming derelict. This crusty, leather clad, mustachioed, late 40s burnout sat down next to me and decided to recant his favorite Floyd lyrics (due to my Pulse T-shirt). “We don’t need no education…” He also sang a little Billy Preston to warm the mood. Then came the hook: “I’m just tryin’ to round up 50 cents for some coffee…” Silence. “You broke?”

“Yeah, man. I’m broke.”

“Well, if I had the big bucks I’d give you some.” A cheery sentiment, but this coming from the same man who told me last weekend that he had an invention that would make him rich, if only he weren’t worried about somebody stealing the patent.

After the vagabond skulked off into the afternoon heat, I was hit up by a second derelict, only this time a 19-ish skater punk. “Hey man, can I get some change for a handgun so I don’t have to ask the next person?”

A handgun, eh? “No, man. I don’t have any change.”

It’s not too much to ask for a little peace on a sunny afternoon in the park. What can be done? How ’bout taking a page from Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome…