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The bum was about to finish his sly-looking-cool-while-begging routine as he approached our table, when he was so rudely interrupted. “Keep walking,” X pointed west. The man was unkempt, stunk, and had a nasty way of spitting. Yeah…there was no way I wanted this man around my 8 oz of $9 dollar ice cream, but I didn’t want any problems with some vagrant who has nothing to loose. The bum retorted, “You ain’t gotta be that way, all I asked…”

“And all I said was keep walking! In fact, let me help you out, Louisiana is back that way.” X pivots and points east, “You’re walking in the wrong direction, buddy, that way!” The finger was a command now. This was no a bs moment, take a stand and deal with it. I, on the other hand, was a bit uneasy, thinking: Did you just say that? OMG, that was so politically incorrect, who’s watching, better not be Oprah! What are you doing sitting there having a fight with a bum? How’d he know he was from Louisiana? Dude, he’s walking away just sit there and become invisible. It’s okay. My little ears peeked and I was discreetly clutching my purse waiting for the right time to yell, “Call the police, NOW!”

Instead, I decide to look at him straight in the eyes and with the calmest, softest, most sensuous tone I could muster, “Baby…” Didn’t even work for a couple of seconds…but to my defense the bum shook his fist and the cane in the air, shouting down the block, “Lets see what you got! You’re too scared to come over here!!” The bum’s yellow teeth glowed down the strip center as he beckoned with his hand,” You ain’t man enough! Come here!! That’s what I thought!” (Yeah, there’s just no way any woman can compete in a game of chicken.)

“No, YOU Come here!” X stands up, cotton t-shirt and shorts, stretching all 5′9 of him to the most peaked capacity. “Come on buddy, I’M WAITING!” The bum walks out of view and I sigh and laugh with relief. “How’d you know he was from Louisiana? And, why did you want to fight the bum? I was content just feeling invisible.” Now the next thing is what got me. In his driest most terse voice, he says, “By the accent. I’ve been dealing with these people since I was riding the bus at the age of 14. First, is can I have a dime, then, its can I have a dollar. Hey what the hell happened to a dime? Get a JOB! This is bs, why do I slave, riding the bus, working, so this guy just goes and begs it?!! And then he’s gonna come around my food?! Get a JOB, because you are taxing the economy!” Wow. He’s got a point. We are so afraid of calling things out like they are, even when it’s a social faux pa, that we forget that we are defined by our happiness, boundaries and respect. If I allowed fear to get the better of me, I would have allowed the bum to rob me of savoring every bit of my ice cream, of not having a voice and speaking up, even not pursuing my artistic work to the fullest. Fear is an emotion some people need to check, but if you’re doing the right thing in an honest manner, then why should you need fear? I turned back to look at X in a different light, cool…his lack of fear inspired me…aaawwww…WHEN the bum walks right back around on the other side….

Here we go again. The bum had renewed his energy by walking around the corner and now he was flapping his mouth nonstop. X rose to the occasion once more and now they were shouting. “Hey, man be careful crossing the street, you might need another cane for that other leg.” I bust out laughing, obnoxious but funny, you must admit. The high school kid walks out to apologize for the bum and offers to get rid of it for us. “Naw, just look at him! He is more afraid of going to jail than anything else.” The bum now enlists the white skinny tattooed crack head in torn jeans, and after a couple of exchanges the crack head starts charging from across the street at full force toward our table. “You got to be kid’n me! Look at this crap.” X turns around and wiggles his butt to the crack head. “Right here buddy, right here!” Now both the kid and I are laughing, “Sir, you want me to…” “Naw, you’re good.” X turns around to place the finishing stamp on the match, “That’s what I THOUGHT!”

We finished our ice cream and I walked back to the car clutching my purse and drove out the opposite direction from them. Hey, I know when you’re out of safe zone. X laughed and called me darling. He was still complaining about a nine dollar ice cream.