I’m starting a series here! It seemed like a neat thing to do and it’s a great way to connect to people through similar experiences and such! I am calling it, “This Is Who I Am”.
The point of the series is to share the events in my life that made me who I am today or influenced my life and the person I am in an unforgettable way, be it good or bad. If you think this is a neat idea and you would like to try it yourself, go ahead! Then come back and leave your link in the comments section and I’ll come check it out, as I am sure other readers will as well. If I get enough people wanting to do it, I’ll turn it into a blog hop, but for now, it’s just my series. I LOVE comments people, so please leave me a piece of your mind after you read!
The following is a true story. *Names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent.
When I was about 16, I spent my first night homeless in New York City.
I got off the subway in a bad section of Bainbridge in the Bronx with nothing but the clothes on my back, .62 cents, and my own cluelessness. I was not a city girl that night. I was a lost girl. And I was prey. I was also lucky, though I didn’t know it at the time.
My first experience in the subways of New York City will live forever in my memory. The screeching of the trains on their tracks, the echoes, the barely lit platforms, and the scent of body odor combined with urine. It’s all still so vivid in my mind. I remember wondering how to get out of this suffocating, underground box.
Following the stairs out of the subway brought me out into the heated air of New York City. A totally different experience yet filled with much of the same sensory assaults. Urine, combined with stale liquor and body odor seemed to dominate the air everywhere. The sound of sirens, people laughing, horns honking, a women cursing loudly somewhere in one of the alleyways, all blanketed me.
I walked through the neighborhood, passing a couple of college kids, probably drunk, hanging onto each other and laughing. A man wearing way too many clothes for a night as warm as this night, slept on a bench. There was a dilapidated shopping cart haphazardly arranged behind the bench. An old man with an Irish accent, reeking of liquor and puke passed me, took notice, mumbled something about a pretty girl and stumbled off into the darkness.
The knowledge that I had nowhere to sleep, .62 cents in my pocket and no idea what I was doing or where I was going was front and center in my mind. What time was it? It had to be about 10:00 pm and I had a long night in front of me. I was hungry and I needed to find a store.
I walked for about 15 minutes before I found a tiny bodega-like store that didn’t look like I might get raped and killed merely for thinking about entering it. It was the only open store on the otherwise unlit block. The filthy front window was nearly entirely covered with sale signs, mostly written in Spanish. There was a group of kids standing outside of the store. One of them was only about 9 or 10 and the rest about my age or older. They were drinking 40’s wrapped in brown paper bags and laughing amongst themselves. I just tried not to make eye contact, put my head down and shuffled into the store. The group fell silent. I felt their eyes combing over me – sizing me up. I didn’t need to turn around to know that they had followed me inside.
The man behind the counter was foreign. He looked ready for trouble and he either knew I had no money or simply trusted no one, because he never took his eyes off me as I stood looking around the dingy little box of a store. Inch thick dust was gathering on the shelves and the products thrown onto them. The counter was almost encased in scuffed Plexiglas and I wondered briefly if it was even safe to buy food from this place.
Behind me, the group of boys started laughing. One of them took a drink out of the freezer. I stood frozen, staring at the rows of dusty ding dongs and coffee cakes. Maybe the boys were like dinosaurs. Maybe if I didn’t move, they’d forget about me and leave. And where were the price tags on this stuff? If I had to ask how much it cost, I’d have to put it back if I didn’t have enough. That would just make me even more obviously out of place.
But they group wasn’t leaving. I knew they were waiting for me to do something. I was prey. I was young, pretty, lost and I didn’t belong. I was fresh meat, and everyone knew it. Why did I wear the tightest jeans I owned today of all days? I could all but feel their eyes grabbing my ass.
I grabbed a pound cake off the shelf and checked the expiration date. Quietly, I made my way to the counter. It took me a minute or two to pull the change out of my pocket. I was wearing skinny jeans and getting my hand in the pocket turned out to be a regrettable ordeal in which I squirmed on my feet, knowing full well that the boys behind me were getting quite the show. I wanted to die right there. I just kept thinking to myself that I was an idiot for needing to eat now. To Be Continued……
Sorry, but it’s a long story, so I’ll have to do this in parts! Next Sunday I will post another part for ya’ll. Have a good Monday!
