Sloppy Nation

The business man in the beautiful pin stripe suit couldn’t help but admire his reflection each time he walked by a store front. With his olive skin and shiny black hair, he was a man that exuded confidence and high class. He continued to walk down 55th Street and all the while basked in the sun and welcomed the beautiful August day. He looked down and noticed a man sitting on the steps of a church and thought to himself, “man, my life is great. I should really share the wealth with the less fortunate.”

So with that, he put his hand in his pocket and pulled out what it appeared to be a shiny gold coin, perhaps a Sacajawea. Leaning down, he put it in the man on the steps hand, while giving him a smile, as if to say, “despite being a gross un-showered homeless man, I still consider you an equal human being”.

And he whistled walking away, felt saturated in generosity.

Meanwhile, the man on the steps looked perplexed.

HE WASN’T HOMELESS.

I was walking behind this scene last week and actually laughed out loud. Why did the man in the suit assume the dude on the steps was homeless just because he was sitting around?
Then the Suit’s phone rang and he started jabbing away in what sounded like Italian.
Is that really was the Europeans think of us? We Americans are just a country filled with filthy homeless people? I guess I would too if I was some classy Parisian, where my home was the place style was given birth to. NYC is supposed to be the fashion capital of the country, but have you seen some of horrors on the street? And I would have to include myself in this category too.

Compared to a well dressed European, I got nothing to work with here.

That got me thinking about how sloppy a nation we truly are. How often do you notice people out on the streets who obviously just jumped out of bed minutes earlier. I cringe at the sight of stretched out velour tracksuits intertwined with a frumpy stay-at home mom body, topped with a crazy-lady-hair -scrunchy combo. Honestly, I often feel intimidated when I have a bad hair day (ugh like today. you should see the edgy bob. It has obviously grown since the cut late June, so now it’s mutated into a weirdo shabby bob. Good thing I’m getting a haircut later) or am not wearing the best possible outfit when walking down Fifth Avenue in a pack of the fashionable Europeans.

I think a big difference is that they choose quality over quality. While Americans bask in the notion of owning 8000 pairs of flip flops, Europeans will have 3 pairs of the most beautiful and exquisite shoes ever to grace the earth.

Sure we have some fashion and style here, but how do we compare our homeless to their equivalent, the gypsies? Our homeless just sit around, pan handle, and make people feel uncomfortable. Why even yesterday while jetting off to the subway, I encountered one who was shaking and ticking as if he just swallowed a bomb minutes from explosion, muttering to himself, “must not get hit by the rain. The rain will make me wet, the rain will make me wet.” About a minute later, I almost got knocked over by one proclaiming, “having sex with a woman IS A SIN”, over and over and over again.

At least theirs are nomads, play music ,and keep the people entertained. If our homeless were eccentric and talented, I would be wayyy more generous with my quarters, nickels, & dimes. Alas, they are all borderline crazy, so I will continue to keep my head down & pretend they don’t exist
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