From Giant Squid to Park Bench

*Post #3 - scroll down for Post #2 and Post #1

Overall, we were incredibly fortunate. After a few unbelievably generous donations of $20, $10, and $10, as well as some random change, Adam and I had amassed over $50 in less than an hour. We later learned that the previous record was only $36―heck yes! But be aware that panhandling is really luck of draw...most of the other groups made only a few bucks, and in one unlucky circumstance, a measly 26 cents.

Before we felt that we overstayed that street corner's welcome, we packed up our stuff. Our stomachs were holding their grumbles nicely, so instead of getting something to eat, we headed to the Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History. Standing in line for the museum, I noticed that the security officers at the entrance checked everyone's purses and backpacks before entering. Soon enough, it was my turn. Unfortunately, I had tied the knot incredibly tightly on the garbage bag that held my sleeping bag. I struggled for at least three minutes to untie it, all the while the line behind me grew longer.

The security woman watched me, annoyed. The people at my back stared, and I could feel their judgment as they took in my outfit, my garbage bags, and my hair that was now a frizzy and tangled hot mess, thanks to the rain. Three minutes seemed like an eternity. At last the damn thing relented and I showed the woman the inside of my bag. That wasn't enough, though. In front of everyone, she had me actually open the case to my sleeping bag and asked what it was. At that moment, I wanted to scream, “I'm homeless―c'mon already, it's obvious!” But instead I just replied coolly, “It’s my sleeping bag.” I continued to hold my tongue as she proceeded to poke and prod in my backpack and second garbage bag. As she went through all of my miserable belongings―a half roll of toilet paper, a Styrofoam cup, scraggly pieces of cardboard, a nasty baseball cap that I picked up off the street―I felt a wave of embarrassment.

However, as I stood there, I was able to console myself that I was merely playing a role. It was my character that was experiencing this shame. But then my heart sank as I realized that homeless people are not playing a role―they don't have a “real life” to which they go back home. Day in and day out, homeless people are humiliated. A number of homeless people used to have high-paying jobs and nice houses―they are not proud of the position that they are in, of the life they now live. In fact, who wouldn't be embarrassed to carry around all of their worldly possessions in a beat up garbage bag? I think many people feel that they have nothing in common with homeless people, that they cannot possibly relate to them. However, I've found that homeless people are just people―they have feelings just like you and I. And we have a lot more in common than society would lead us to believe. Anyway, I can only imagine how small a person must feel after exchanges like these.

After finally getting through security, I headed to the information and asked the woman for a map. “Of what?” she snapped. I was taken aback not only by the idiocy of her question, but by the tone it carried. “Uh..the museum??” I replied. As she handed one over, I played the part and asked her if all of the exhibits were free of charge. Her response was a biting and abrupt, “Yes.” And that was that. Calling her a snob would be mighty polite.

We stuffed our belongings into the lockers and then set off to explore the exhibits. It's funny―as soon as I ditched my bags, I no longer felt like a homeless person but rather just like a scruffier and dirtier version of myself. After admiring the (quasi)GIANT squid [to me, it was a disappointment - I was a expecting 35 foot long monster and this thing was *maybe* 12 feet long], Adam and I checked out the new featured exhibit, Human Origins. It was a wonderful exhibit--with lots of bones, skulls, and more bones. As we were finishing up, we actually ran into two fellow participants, Ruth and Tim. After all of us shared our experiences up to that point, it was clear that Tim was the big winner―he had garbage-picked a really sweet jacket that transformed him to 100% homeless, and while dumpster diving, he came out with a full loaf of bread!

Tim and his awesome homeless jacket

We parted ways with Ruth and Tim, and decided that after all of this walking it was time for a nap. So we left the museum and walked right over to two benches on the National Mall. Stretching out on the bench, I used my backpack and sleeping bag as my “pillow.” I wasn't sure what to do with my second garbage bag, though―there wasn't enough room on the bench, but I didn't want to let go of it, with the fear that someone would try to run off with it. I settled on holding a part of it and let the rest dangle to the ground. Positioning my hair in front of my face, I closed my eyes and let my senses take over.

My body ached, its bones sore and tired from standing and walking all day long. The bench was hard and awkward. My bags were too big to make a comfortable pillow and my neck soon became stiff. The cold air managed to weave its way through my clothes and settle into my skin. Every few seconds, I would hear the crunch of gravel as people walked by―sometimes it seemed like they were only inches away from my head. With every crackly footfall, I tensed up. I was afraid―afraid that someone would try to take my stuff, afraid that someone would heckle me, afraid that the police were going to tell me to move. I wanted so badly to fall asleep, but my mind wouldn't surrender its consciousness.