I ordered the huevos rancheros. I'm sure I've had worse somewhere, sometime, but this was the worst in memory: overcooked eggs, bland frijoles refritos, and greasy crumbled bacon. A guy at a nearby table ordered the same thing. He smashed and mixed everything on the plate together. It looked like huevos rancheros made in a blender. Or worse.
Meanwhile, an apparently homeless man was giving himself a sponge bath in the restroom. When I asked to use the sink to wash my hands, he started yelling at me. "I'll take my damn time, asshole," he shouted, while rubbing his emaciated chest with a huge wad of toilet paper.
Then, after a few moments while I waited, he asked me if I had any money to give him. I handed him a dollar bill.
He turned back to the sink and barked, "I'm still gonna take my damn time."
More after the jump
I gave up and went back to my table.
Last night — continuing my stellar diet — I stopped at Popeyes. I joined the lengthy drive-through crowd. Standing a few feet from the call box, another apparently homeless man was half-coherently asking each driver for money. I handed him a dollar bill.
The driver behind me burst out of her car and literally began ranting at me about "enabling" the man's drinking. "Give him a chicken wing, if you have to give him something," she said. "But don't give him money for booze."
I told the woman I wasn't interested in making moral judgments about someone who was obviously suffering.
I feel like I've had this conversation nearly as many times as homeless people have asked me for a dollar.
The woman got back in her car and turned her brights on. I have no idea.
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