I've been meaning to write this since the day I flew home.
To the Crazy Homeless Couple I encountered outside of Metro:
I don't know what to say.
I had just crossed the street when I saw you. You were making out like a couple of high-schoolers on prom night. Seeing your toothless mouths connected made me sick to my stomach. You each slid your hands down the other's pants; I threw up in my mouth. I ran into the store to avoid you. I thought I was safe.
I came back out only to see that you had finished. Standing at the corner, you were talking to a crowd of people waiting to cross the street. I tried to sneak by quickly; you thwarted me. I heard one of you ask, "Can I have a dollar?"
"No. I don't have any change on me."
I continued to walk down the street. I only made the few feet to the corner before I heard something. It sounded like one of you was asking, "Would you like to buy some boxes of Kool-Aid?"
I stood there in shock; I couldn't believe my ears. I slowly realized that my brain hadn't deceived me. You did say that. Despite telling you that I didn't have change, you wanted me to give you money anyway.
"How about some Kool-Aid?"
"No. I have no change."
"Are you sure you don't want to buy some Kool-Aid?" you said. "It only costs a dollar! We have different flavours."
I could see the boxes of (obviously stolen) Kool-Aid. They were sitting next to you on the sidewalk. You were physically pointing at them trying to get me to buy one. But I wasn't interested. Your giant toothless grin distracted me. It was like looking into a dark cave, a dark cave with one tooth. The sunlight reflecting off your greasy hair was blinding me. I could see my reflection when I looked at your forehead. It was mesmerizing.
It was then that something dawned on me: you only had one flavour of Kool-Aid. Ice Blue Rasberry Lemonade. Yuck.
Any chance you had of making that sale vanished. I don't like things sold on sidewalks. I don't like Kool-Aid. I don't like Ice Blue Rasberry Lemonade. I don't like products in damaged packaging. And I really don't like Ice Blue Rasberry Lemonade sidewalk Kool-Aid in damaged packaging.
"No. I don't have any change. I left my wallet at home," I lied. I did have change in my pocket; you weren't gettting any of it. "I have nothing for you."
You turned away from me, dejected. Finally. You tried the other members of the crowd, but they weren't interested. We all walked away silently nodding in agreement: you were terrible salesmen. None of us were going to buy that bridge.
I'm not an asshole. I want to help you so I've put your names in for Extreme Makeover: Homeless Edition.