It's tough waking up at 3:45 am and starting your Bigbucks shift at 4:30 am. You never get used to it. You get better at doing it but it always feels way too early to being doing anything but sleeping or still partying. It helps if you're serving espresso and drinking copious amounts of said beverage. It is nice being done with your workday at 1:15pm. People think hey, you've got the rest of the day to do all sorts of things! In theory, yes there are tons of things one could do a free afternoon-- laundry, grocery shopping, writing screenplays. But I always went home and napped for a few hours, then I'd wake up eat and start drinking. I could have gone to bed at 7:45pm, but I never did. My point being, I always left work deeply groggy.
I passed this black dude often, frowy hair, khakis and a t-shirt, clean. His corner was on my way home. I always had the feeling he was close to getting off the streets. He seemed more together many of the other homeless people I would pass regularly.
"Hey, you got a dollar," he yelled at me before I crossed the street.
I had headphones on and pretened like I couldn't hear him. He stepped in front of me.
"I asked you a question," he looked different than usual, desperate.
"Dude, I'm wearing headphones."
"So you can't hear, you can't hear me?!"
He was way too close and it made me angry.
"WHY ARE YOU IN MY FACE?"
"I KNOW YOU HEARD ME- YOU GOTTA DOLLAR"
"NOT FOR YOU!"
"FUCKING FAGGOT!"
I was never a fighter or even a shover. It did not feel real. I pushed him, hard. My heart was beating so fast. I stood over him ready, ready to hurt him. I didn't even know this guy but I was just so fucking full of anger.
"Go on, start kicking motherfucker--beat me just like the rest of them!"
My guess is that he was off his meds. He wasn't even gonna put up a fight. I walked away. I could hear him mumbling on as I left but I only got one word. He said it much louder than the others.
"Pussy, learn to kick a man when he's down!"
I felt like vomiting as I walked back to the apartment. I found Mongo there scratching his beard and pacing.
"How were the movies?"
He pointed his index finger in the air and excaimed the following epiphone.
"We need to leave town."