The New Yorker within...

I seriously don't know what it is about me that attracts the homeless and drug addicted flotsam of our society but every time I walk into a city of any size I am immediately accosted by someone who smells like urine and is "just trying to make bus fare."

I don't get it. I'm a big dude who has tattoos and piercings and a near permanent scowl that was issued to me by the Marine Corps. I don't walk around so much as "march" to my destination like I own it and the pavement between. Hell, I wouldn't approach me and I'm more than aware that I'm just a big teddy bear who plays a tough guy on TV.

The most recent offense was this past weekend. My friend Jon and I were in the city for the Dragon*Con staff meeting and had decided to go to dinner with some good friends of mine whom I hadn't seen in a long time. As we were leaving Hsu's Chinese Restaurant I was immediately approached by a guy wearing what looked like terry cloth "do-rag" on his head, a sleeveless Tommy Hilfiger shirt (I saw the brand patch on the bottom left front of the shirt) that had been roughed up a bit, and designer jeans and shoes that were in a fine state of polish for someone who hadn't "eaten in days." (Yes. I really am that observant. Ask anyone.)

Really, dude? I mean, REALLY?!

A) I know that I don't look stupid and B) you don't look homeless. How did you think that was going to end? Did you think that I was going to naively offer to pay for whatever imaginary affliction you dreamed up in the ten seconds it took you to walk over? Did you think that I wouldn't notice the seventy dollar pants you were wearing? Does this act work and if so can you introduce me to those saps? Because I have a Lunar Subdivision and can get them in for a small investment.

After I politely sent him packing my friends and I finished our goodbyes and Jon and I walked to the train station to catch our ride home. Along the way we were approached by a gentleman in a two piece double-breasted suit and fedora (Yes his shoes were polished, also. I didn't want to repeat myself.) He proceeded to lay out some sob story about his very bad day which included a hospital, a car, his daughter, his wife, something about being a preacher, and needing four dollars.

Jon watched in horror as I allowed the guy to continue speaking and several times I was tempted to laugh at him or to just stop him and walk away. But the guy's story was like something straight from a Wachowski Brothers film (overly complex and full of itself) so honestly, I just wanted to see how deep this guy's rabbit hole would go.

Again, I politely informed the individual that, if financial assistance was his need, that I was unable to be his benefactor and Jon and I walked quickly away shaking our heads in disbelief.

So what is it about me that attracts these unhygienic individuals like moths to a flame? Seriously. I need to know so I can make it stop. Because if I have to say, "Sorry, dude. I don't have any change," one more bloody time, I will start shooting hobos as a release.