Living in Beverly Hills has been pretty sweet. Except for getting robbed twice and seeing an attempted suicide, it's been NOT HALF BAD. Even the homeless people are good-natured and somewhat affluent.
There was this one homeless bro in Harvard Square called "Champ," who was a retired boxer and not actually homeless, but he still decided to spend his time posted up outside of the 7-11 on Mt. Auburn st. in Cambridge. I usually get along mad well with non-deranged homeless people, so logically we used to kick it pretty regularly. After probably 10 or 15 taquitos and Pelligrinos - my treat - we were remarkably close.
Around October of 2004, when our rapport was at its peak, Champ actually gave me his cell phone number. I was surprised he had a mobile phone, but I guess he also had an apartment in Somerville, so it shouldn't have been that shocking. I tried him over Thanksgiving, but I got some weird Asian woman probably with no relation, and I began to wonder if he was in fact homeless and his cell phone was just a display model.
After that, I got kind of weirded out by Champ and stopped thinking about him, except occasionally on Thanksgiving and whenever I ate taquitos. He also stopped hanging around in Cambridge so he was basically off my radar. At the time I mused that he was training to get back in the ring, but deep down I knew this was just a pipe dream. The dude wasn't Rocky.
I never thought I'd meet another homeless bro like Champ, but this Saturday, outside the Peet's Coffee on South Beverly I did. This dude, like Champ, was posted up in fresh jeans and an army cap efficiently collecting cash. He literally must have made $14 in the forty-five minutes I spent watching him. As I was leaving, I saw these two young dudes walk up to him unsolicited, each with a dollar in hand. When they were like three feet away, he motioned with his finger, reached into his pocket and picked up his cell phone. The kids gave him their cash anyway and he mouthed "thank you" as he listened to his call.
I hadn't seen since this style of homelessness since the days of Champ and the 7/11. He was still on the phone when I passed by, and I didn't want to bother him with some cash, but this mad personable homeless bro was kind enough to tell the dude he was rapping with to hold on one second and asked me to "help a brother out!" I was literally dumbfounded, but I gathered myself enough to hand him a dollar. He tipped his fresh army hat and continued his conversation, a dollar richer.
I walked home in the rain thinking about Champ and how he didn't think it was funny when I called him Mr. Wendall. The thing about homeless people is that they're almost always deranged. This is obviously a classic case of the chicken and the egg, but with Champ and this new bro, it was different. It's usually such a drag to encounter deranged homeless people, but when you meet one who's affable and probably not homeless, it's just such a pleasure.
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