Skinnings and Such

There's nothing like a great blog about getting skinned by the insane in a Tenderloin Hostel that brings back warm memories of my college experience. I found this fabulous post and it had me laughing in the hysterical God-I-Am-Glad that's over variety. You see, going to Cal at the height of San Francisco giving all the the crazies BART passes to Berkeley was just priceless. That grid system decreased the crime in SF, but made my life a peach. You know when you are walking on the street and a homeless guy picks up a boulder and throws it through a windshield...just because.

Or better yet, I was having lunch with my soon to be husband and another buddy in a cafe on Telegraph in Berkeley. You know, the ones where they take out the windows in summer. This homeless guy comes along with a cross strapped to his forward. A HUGE mother of a cross. We are talking tip of nose to hairline and almost ear to ear. I was used to this because being in ROTC, in uniform, and pregnant really made me stand out to the crazy, insane, homeless at Berkeley. Most of them were vets from Vietnam and generally harmless. I usually got the standing salute as I walked home down Telegraph to my coop. This was a bit different.

Anyway, I must have caught his eye because he starts ranting and screaming, making the entire restaurant turn and look--at us. You see, he decided we were vampires and he was going to burn us, sacrifice us, or some shit like that! It went on for 15 straight minutes. How does one blithely chew her sandwich while you have a insane, cross-strapped man screaming you are a vampire. Luckily, a really rough neighborhood punk came along finally and shut his skank ass down so I could swallow the mouthful of Zona Rosa burrito I'd been chewing for the last 10 minutes.

Then there was the time the "lady" wearing 6 layers of clothes from the free bin at People's park took a dump...in the middle of the road...then asked for my assistance in tying shut her dress...from behind. I helped her though I barely could reach the ties that didn't cover her bare bottom that smelled like....Berkeley's South side.

Then there was the homeless guy that came to our house on Alcatraz during a party. We didn't have curtains at the time. He rang our door and asked for money. We all said no. So he stood there for minute after minute with his face smashed against the window on our front porch. It took a Marine friend with a bat talking about getting his gun to make him go away.

Then, there was my favorite. We were at Cafe Strada by I-House. It had the best mochas and a great outdoor patio to sit and enjoy the evening. There we were a group of 7-8 military guys, my friend Amber, and I. This loony came up and I chatted with him harmlessly. At one point, a quart of vodka fell out of his pocket. He talked of being the first Democrat-Republican-transgender-blah-blah. He seemed fun, slight of body, lispy, off his lithium, but harmless until all the sudden he had his arm around my throat and started to choke me. Those brawny military yokels I called friends did nothing--CG being one of them! He has and will never live this down! He was in the process of getting up the nerve to court me and then let the crazy man choke me out?! Anyway, it took little Amber with her ringlets, but tough as shit voice to say , "get your @#$%^ hands off my girlfriend." That's all it took. Ahh! Memories of the Bay Area!

'lisciously scribed by Scout's Honor @ 12:18 PM