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I think I'd rather be the homeless guy.
Sitting outside a gas station in downtown Victoria this morning waiting for Mom to come back out I noticed a homeless man approaching the vacuums across the parking lot. He had the typical look about him, ratty trench coat, large clear bag slung over his back with assorted bits of grungy fabric in the bottom and empty cans and bottles in the top probably destined for the recycling depot down the street.
Jaded bitch that I am, I thought I had seen this type of thing before. I thought he was headed for the garbage can between the car vacuums looking for more bottles or more likely judging from the unlit half cigarette dangling from between his teeth, cigarette butts. So I watched, because I do that (you see the most interesting things when you watch people).
He set down his bag and made his way to the first vacuum. Opened it up and pulled out the canister from inside. I was not at all surprised to see him start rifling through it. Again I assumed he was looking for butts, cause you know, unlit cigarette, and he was occasionally tucking something I couldn't see into his pockets. He wouldn't be the first person I had watched go through the vacuum canisters at a gas station. Nothing new here. Usually they don't get much further than having pulled the vacuum canister out before one of the gas station employees comes rushing out yelling about vandalism.
What was new was when instead of just putting the canister back inside the vacuum he carried it over to the garbage can and emptied it, sorting the small bits of paper into the recycling bin as well. That surprised me a bit. I was more surprised when he went back to the vacuum and balancing the canister carefully between his hip and the concrete barricade reached into one of the pockets of his trench coat, pulling out a ratty old work glove and proceeded to empty all the assorted bits of trash that had not made it into the canister out of the inside of the vacuum and sort them into the appropriate garbage bins as well.
When he had finished with the first vacuum, he carefully replaced the canister, closed the vacuum back up and moved on to the second vacuum, repeating the whole process once more. That task also completed, he tidied up the trash from the ground as well before he finally removed his one ratty glove and leaned back against the concrete barricade next to the vacuums.
This was when he really surprised me.
He reached into one pocket of his trench coat and pulled out a book of matches lighting his half a cigarette still clenched between his teeth. Took a moment to enjoy that first drag, then replacing the book of matches he delved into the pocket he had been placing whatever it was he had been picking out of the vacuum canisters into. A moment later he pulled his hand back out, and stood staring down at the contents. Taking another long drag from his cigarette, he once again clenched it between his teeth and began counting out the change he had pulled from the vacuum canisters.
He finished counting his change, it couldn't have been more than a dollar, gave a satisfied nod, and slid it back into his pocket. Then he hefted his bag once more, and set off out of the parking lot and down the sidewalk.
I watched him for a bit longer. He stopped at the bus stop down the street where someone had left a shopping cart from the grocery store. It was one of the shopping carts that has the little box attached to the handle with the chain on it that you have to put a quarter in to unlock it from the rest of the line of carts. The man ducked down to check the slot where the quarter goes, I guess to see if it had a quarter in it or was one of the ones that had been tampered with to not need a quarter. He was smiling as he stood back up and tossed his bag into the cart and headed off, pushing the cart down the sidewalk the way he had come from in the first place. The grocery store was down that way so I guess the cart had a quarter in it after all.
He picked up three more pieces of trash before I lost sight of him around the corner as well. Not like the guy parked beside us at the gas station in the shiny new Ford truck. That guy came back out of the gas station with a candy bar. He dropped the wrapper on the ground as he climbed inside.
Jaded bitch that I am, I thought I had seen this type of thing before. I thought he was headed for the garbage can between the car vacuums looking for more bottles or more likely judging from the unlit half cigarette dangling from between his teeth, cigarette butts. So I watched, because I do that (you see the most interesting things when you watch people).
He set down his bag and made his way to the first vacuum. Opened it up and pulled out the canister from inside. I was not at all surprised to see him start rifling through it. Again I assumed he was looking for butts, cause you know, unlit cigarette, and he was occasionally tucking something I couldn't see into his pockets. He wouldn't be the first person I had watched go through the vacuum canisters at a gas station. Nothing new here. Usually they don't get much further than having pulled the vacuum canister out before one of the gas station employees comes rushing out yelling about vandalism.
What was new was when instead of just putting the canister back inside the vacuum he carried it over to the garbage can and emptied it, sorting the small bits of paper into the recycling bin as well. That surprised me a bit. I was more surprised when he went back to the vacuum and balancing the canister carefully between his hip and the concrete barricade reached into one of the pockets of his trench coat, pulling out a ratty old work glove and proceeded to empty all the assorted bits of trash that had not made it into the canister out of the inside of the vacuum and sort them into the appropriate garbage bins as well.
When he had finished with the first vacuum, he carefully replaced the canister, closed the vacuum back up and moved on to the second vacuum, repeating the whole process once more. That task also completed, he tidied up the trash from the ground as well before he finally removed his one ratty glove and leaned back against the concrete barricade next to the vacuums.
This was when he really surprised me.
He reached into one pocket of his trench coat and pulled out a book of matches lighting his half a cigarette still clenched between his teeth. Took a moment to enjoy that first drag, then replacing the book of matches he delved into the pocket he had been placing whatever it was he had been picking out of the vacuum canisters into. A moment later he pulled his hand back out, and stood staring down at the contents. Taking another long drag from his cigarette, he once again clenched it between his teeth and began counting out the change he had pulled from the vacuum canisters.
He finished counting his change, it couldn't have been more than a dollar, gave a satisfied nod, and slid it back into his pocket. Then he hefted his bag once more, and set off out of the parking lot and down the sidewalk.
I watched him for a bit longer. He stopped at the bus stop down the street where someone had left a shopping cart from the grocery store. It was one of the shopping carts that has the little box attached to the handle with the chain on it that you have to put a quarter in to unlock it from the rest of the line of carts. The man ducked down to check the slot where the quarter goes, I guess to see if it had a quarter in it or was one of the ones that had been tampered with to not need a quarter. He was smiling as he stood back up and tossed his bag into the cart and headed off, pushing the cart down the sidewalk the way he had come from in the first place. The grocery store was down that way so I guess the cart had a quarter in it after all.
He picked up three more pieces of trash before I lost sight of him around the corner as well. Not like the guy parked beside us at the gas station in the shiny new Ford truck. That guy came back out of the gas station with a candy bar. He dropped the wrapper on the ground as he climbed inside.
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I'm with you on the title as well btw. The guy in the Ford truck sounds like the kind of stereotype I'm not very keen on - want it, want it, want it, get it, and not care about anyone or anything else to get it or when they have it.
I'm just so surprised at how.. generous, I think that could be said?, that man was. Quite sweet of him actually. :)
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