Free? No such thing... 2003-04-28

A couple of nights ago, I went out to dinner with my girlfriend. We went to this local diner/drug store that's been open for a hundred years, literally. There was no special occasion (other than spending time with each other, which is about as sappy as I get), we were just hungry.

So we're sitting out front, where they have tables lined up on the sidewalk, and we're eating and talking and everything's fine... when I see a homeless man approaching.
Now, he didn't really look like a homeless man. By that I mean, he wasn't filthy, or pushing a shopping cart, or anything. But there was something about him, that I could tell.
He was also incredibly drunk.

So anyway, he half-staggers to our table, and asks if there's anything that we aren't gonna eat.
Now, I don't know about anyone else, but in a situation like that, if I can help a man out, then I will. So I offer him the muffin I was probably going to have a hard time finishing after the rest of my meal anyway. My girlfriend follows suit and offers him her vegetables and bread as well.
The man was ecstatic. Relief washed over his face, and he says something like, "Thank you so much. I'm starving. Thank you."

Then he asks if he can sit with us while he eats. I tell him, "Of course you can."

So he sits down, and around mouthfuls of food tells my girlfriend what an amazing guy I am, and how thankful he is that we offered him food.
He also complains a bit about his hip, telling us that it took a bullet while he was serving in Vietnam.

"Oh, yeah, I was in Vietnam," he says. "Don't believe me? How old do you think I am?"

I don't have a clue. So I throw out a number. 55. Sounds about right for the time period, right? Maybe not... He snorts and points his thumb up in the air.
"I'm an old fart," he says.
"But you, man. You! I wish I had a guy like you backing me up when I was over there. How old are you?"

I smile, because I can just feel where the conversation is headed, and I know he's not going to appreciate my answers.
So I give him my age.

"24? Hot damn, boy, what the fuck are you doing here? Why aren't you over there with all the other men?"

Couldn't you just feel that one coming on?
I tell him, "Because I don't believe in any of that." And his face changed, like he suspected I spit in his food.

"My God, you're stupid. You don't have any fucking idea, do you? You're fucking stupid." He turns to my girlfriend. "That guy is stupid." He looks at me. "Do you have any idea, what the fuck's going on? What we went through?" And then his face gets real sly. "I'm gonna tell you something... Me and my buddy, we come back from the war, and we find this gook (derogatory term for an oriental person) over in the Circle... And my buddy pulls out a gun and blows his head off!" He leans in. "And no one reported nothing. No news, no police... He and I, we stashed the body away... What do you think of that?" He chuckles. "Not sitting too well with you, is it?"
I shake my head. "No, not so much."

He then proceeds to go into a scenario, one I had heard before from other vets. It's my opinion that it's something their drill sergeant tells them during brain-washing... I mean, boot camp.
He points a finger at my girlfriend, and says, "okay, look. Look. Say I'm pointing a gun at her. Pretend I'm threatening her life. What are you gonna do?"

A couple of thoughts crossed my head at that moment. The first is that he's going about the argument all wrong. Technically the argument would only matter if I was against violence completely. But since I'm not, that I merely believe there's a big difference between protecting those I love and killing, between defending myself and going to war.
The other thought I had, was that he had just finished telling me a story about how he and a pal had murdered somebody.

"There's no way," I say, "That I would let you threaten her."

Our little exchange is interrupted by the manager, who comes up to us and asks, "Is he bothering you? He's not with you..."
"No, no," I say. "It's alright. We're just talking, we're fine. We asked him to sit down." The manager nods and goes back inside.

The man seemed to realize he was being rude. He apologized profusely, and said what a good guy I was. He tells my girlfriend to never let me go. Then he tells me to never beat my girlfriend, which is good advice, though I don't think there would ever be a time when I would need that sort of advice.
Then he says to me, "I can tell that this girl loves you, you know that? Every time she looks at you, it shows. You know that?" Then he predicts that we'll be together forever.

We find out that he's been married. Has several children (all who are older than me). Aparrently, he's also homeless by choice. Says his last name is Northroep. As in the Northroep that worked with Howard Hughes. As in the muti-million dollar family.

"You wouldn't think it, would you?" he says. "That I'm worth millions. Do you believe me?"
I nod, and tell him, "You have no reason to lie to me about it."
He laughs. "Well, I'm not worth anything. My family disowned me. Didn't want a drunk on their hands."

And then the cops show up. First, just the one. Talking cool as you please, pulling on some tight-fitting gloves.
The gloves stay with me, for some reason. I can't decide if he put them on so he wouldn't have to actually touch the guy, or whether it was to protect his hands if things got violent, or what. I wondered if it was standard policy.
And then cop number 2 shows up. A motorcycle cop. And then another. And another. 4 cops for one homeless man. The ask him to get up and talk to them away from our table.

And wouldn't you know it? As soon as he's gone, the manager comes out again. "I'm so sorry about that," she says. "We'll take care of your bill, we are really sorry."
My girlfriend and I look at each other, and tell the manager that she doesn't have to do that, that everything was fine, we were just talking. "No, no," she says. "As soon as I realized what was happening, I called the police. I'm sorry it took so long. Please, we'll take care of your bill."

Everyone else was relieved he was gone, too. Random strangers, telling us how thankful they were he was gone, store owners saying how much of a problem that guy was.

I wanted to tell them that I thought he was interesting. That I wish I could have done more than just offer him my table scraps. That they didn't understand.
But no one stayed long enough to listen. The threat to their lives had been removed, and they could function again. It went a long way in explaining peoples' attitudes concerning the middle east. "I don't care what they do, as long as it doesn't affect me." Gas prices go up? Perceived terrorist threats? "Nuke the hell out of em! So I can live in apathetic bliss once more."

My girlfriend and I were walking home, and I remarked that that was one of the more interesting dinners I've ever had. My girlfriend says, "I want to take the whole conversation, turn it into a script, and title it, 'There's No Such Thing as a Free Meal'."

I can't be sure how serious she felt about the whole situation, how much it affected her... But I thought that her idea was one of the best I've heard in a long time.