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| What I worry about most is someone setting me on fire when I sleep. The other is my feet. Having boots on most of the day without taking the time to allow your dogs to get some air can lead to humongous fungus. Everything is pivotal and manages to pile up, little by little, everyday when you’re homeless. Relying on the Kindness of Strangers is One Bitter Pill to Swallow. Every morning I wake up with the sunrise. Nothing romantic about it. Fact is you have to, unless you want to suffer heat stroke or worse. This is the summer, so by 7 am it can get into the upper eighties. The safest place to sleep is on a rooftop. This allows you a somewhat safe nest from any Droogies who might be out to do a person some harm. Having been known to pop-open a few newspaper boxes and swipe the latest edition, I’ve seen (more than once) where a homeless person made the fatal mistake of picking a spot to sleep that would become his last. Regardless of the nighttime temperature, sometimes it has been know to fall quite drastically. I believe it to be quite psychologically satisfying as well, surrounding one self in blankets, creating a cocoon, or a nest. Once I wake up the first order of business is to use the facilities. Personally, I try not to use the same restroom everyday, so as not to wear out a good thing. You’d be surprised how rude employees of gas stations, diners and grocery stores can be when they realize that you’re simply brushing your teeth, or heaven forbid, shaving! Here in Las Vegas I’ve been lucky enough to come across a lot of folks who can (for whatever reason) relate to a disheveled stranger. Showers are few and far between but whore baths are in abundance. Thank my Lucky Strikes, I was able to get a storage shed, where I can swap out clean clothes and try to hang on to what little possessions I still have. It’s preferable to staying at St Vincent’s, a homeless shelter on the northern portion of the Strip. St Vinnie’s offers a two- inch foam mattress, layered above a concrete floor, surrounded by stink-foot-foul-smelling individuals. I walk around with my Street Survivors Colostomy Bag a.k.a. Backpack. The term is in no way a dig against those who are stricken with an illness. If you’ve ever lost a bag, pocket book, luggage or anything of value, you might come close to understanding the syntax. My backpack contains toiletries rivaling any dame’s purse, a change of clothes, notebooks, books and other odds and ends. My fave is a transistor radio so I can listen to Howard Stern in the morning and fight boredom in those long waits for the CAT (Citizen Area Transit) bus. The folks down at the Las Vegas Paiute Tribe are gracious enough to spot me a free bus pass every month, being how I qualify and all, so I can get around town painfully slow. I have affiliation with a Nation of Amerindians who are not recognized by the Bureau of Indian Affairs. This might be of importance to you (or to myself, when I’m in such a predicament) though I’m not inclined to avow such information so freely. I would like to take advantage of any and all type of aid that is available to me; only I feel that if this information gets out I might not qualify for anything. The Tribe has a Health and Human Services building where they offer low cost medical care for local Native Americans; Pautes, Apache, Oglala Sioux and me, probably the only Lumbee in town. Lumbee. Named after a river formally known as Drowning Creek. Lumbee. Originally from the Cheraw Nation of the Sioux. Lumbee. Alone. The only thing they can really do is to point me in the right direction. The woman in charge does so, graciously, and in turn I’m off to seek Social Services. Hold on. I’m getting a little ahead of myself. I was talking about my glorious morning ritual: Get up. Climb down from the rooftop. Hit public restroom. Once looking and feeling spring fresh, food is top of the order. If you want, you can go apply for a Food Stamp Debit Card or EBT. These are free; just don’t expect to get it the next day. It only takes a week after you make an appointment at Social Services and another week to get it cleared to go. These last for three months and get a single person about $130 worth of food for the month or $3.30 a day. This is good for cold food only! Hot food is strictly prohibited. I found this out when a person working the deli at a local grocery chain, busted me for trying to heat up a sandwich. They mentioned something about a $50,000 fine if someone from the County Health Department were, by happenstance, to mosey on by as I was indulging in this diabolical deed. They only allow you the debit card once every three years and only for a three month stretch. If you want to continue with this program you have to have at least a part-time job - “Working Welfare”.
Why don’t you get a Damn Job? When you walk into Nevada Job Link you must sign in. No, sign in on the right not the left. You sign in on the left only after you’ve picked the three job possibilities that most strike your fancy. These are listed on sheets of computerized print out paper hanging on a wall. No, the wall on the right. I walk up and attempt to decipher the font. Maybe I need specs. I hadn’t been to an optometrist since I was 11 yrs old and lied to get a pair of Ernie Douglas specials. It was my pre-punk, Elvis Costello, post glam-rock phase. I start to inch closer as I peripherally notice the other dozen or so uncomfortable bodies shifting about. This is a small spot for all of us job seekers not to bump into one another. Once I got my three picks (according to number not job title), I’m off to see one of the nice job counselors. Turns out the one that I picked is through an employment agency. Agencies aren’t very practical because they take two weeks to pay you your first weeks’ check. You have to have reliable transportation (read: either ride from co-jerker or leaving three hours early on the CAT). Also you really need to bring a lunch on account of burning up those calories as you task away in some warehouse or on some assembly line. Day labor is also an option, but don’t expect to get out for the first few days. You become part of the wallpaper after the “regulars” are handled and sent out. I know there are exceptions to every situation and god speed to you. Another “pick” included a fax number and e-mail address for applications. When it comes to filling out applications you have to also consider that unless you know someone already working there or know someone who knows someone, you aren’t getting the gig. It would be against the law to toss out your application, but not to let it collect dust. Please check back with us periodically until you become a nuisance. I should’ve gotten one more address though I didn’t on account of taking off to a job fair at Neonopolis. This is a newly designed shopping center on Freemont Street. It was erected in order to attract a declining interest in the once popular haven for Las Vegas goers, instead it’s become more of an empty shell, complete with movie theatre, restaurants, hobby shops and the like. Today it’s housing a job fair that is catering to the fresh out of college and looking for a fresh start, fresh-set. I felt out of place and should’ve asked the Mayor himself for some advice, when I saw him pressing the flesh with patrons and potential voters. He’s arguably the best mayor this town has ever seen and most assuredly will be, for the next four years. Enough about him… To Steal or Not to Steal. Personally I don’t get any Wynnona kicks out of it. Before my food card came through a homie had to do what a homie had to do. It’s a nuisance getting caught shoplifting. First of all you go in front of the judge hoping that he/she has had just about the greatest day a person so great could have. You probably copped a plea, which means a fine, attending classes and other bureaucratic tasks. Pre-heat at 100 plus degrees and you got a recipe for disaster. I don’t recommend this. The three hots and a cot bullshit is for the birds. Jailbirds. One cannot honestly attempt to better oneself while continuing to commit larceny, petty or otherwise. If the temptation to do so doesn’t kill you, these streets will. I’m talking about the traffic. When you hoof it all over, you have to constantly dodge and dart, in and out of traffic. Hoping that a cop doesn’t take a shine to your j-walking ass, as you kick rocks over the median. This recently happened when I was crossing the parkway as a paddy wagon was heading north. You can spot these black and white vans usually parked to rendezvous with 5.0. who can drop off a perp and be back to work in time for donuts. The officer behind the wheel warned me of some kind of fine ‘next time’, only I didn’t stop to chat for him to elaborate on the amounts and conditions. Try to avoid doing anything illegal if and when you become homeless. I dare you. What Comes Around Goes Around! Gee if that’s the case I must’ve done something horrific to someone then blocked it out of my mind completely. Maybe I inadvertently killed or maimed someone when I tossed that banana peel on the sidewalk back in 93’. To be homeless it to be without any kind of structure, routine or normalcy. Those things are created with the help of family and friends. Re-prioritizing things on a whim and improvising situations are the order of the day. That’s why it seems like it would be easy to simply fall heavy, hard and deep into dope and drink. I’m just as guilty as the next guy when it comes to these indulgences. I scamper up to my rooftop hide-away. I can smell the Chinese-food still emanating from the noisy air-duct system. Picking the right spot is vital to a good nights sleep. Once you got your spot and you feel safe you can drift from this world into the land of dreams. Entering into the realm of hard sleep isn’t easy with one eye open. Sometimes waking up into the middle of the night. Sometimes in time to see a shooting star. Sometimes at the behest of a screech, scream or siren that has oozed through your mindscape. I rolled over for additional winks the other morning. I heard a helicopter and looked up to notice a Ghetto Bird circling overhead. I tossed on my shants (Sing along in a commercial jingle kinda way: Well, they’re not quite shorts and they’re not quite pants. They’re Shants!), rolled up my stuff and hit the skids. I heard the low roar of a black and white cruise up on me, as I was high tailing it through an adjacent strip mall. He didn’t bother to stop. Neither did I. Gordon Ison (Lumbee) currently resides and
attends university in Las Vegas. |
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