Why do street people hate me?


I’m not sure what I did this time, but some crazy guy tried to pick a fight with me over the weekend.

Around six o’clock Saturday evening, I was strolling down to the Danforth to run some errands, and just as I rounded the corner just north of Pape Station where the camera is nailed to the telephone pole, I saw a girl lying motionless on the sidewalk. She was curled up in a fetal position wearing only a sweater and panties, and a dirty-looking man who was obviously with her was standing over her. I glanced down briefly to see if she was dead or dying or something, but I quickly ascertained that she was probably just drunk or high or maybe throwing a tantrum, so I kept walking.

I glanced back over my shoulder as I was walking, and suddenly she was on her feet, glaring after me. I shrugged and kept walking, but glanced backward again a few steps later. This time, the dirty-looking guy was walking after me with his arms stretched wide in a confrontational posture, as if to say, “What’s your problem?” or “You wanna go?” I’m not sure what he was actually saying, but I could see his lips moving. I had my headphones on, and I didn’t want to take them off to listen, as that would have probably seemed like an invitation to continue the conversation. So I just kept walking, but kept a watchful eye in case he suddenly started running at me. I was getting ready to (a) run straight into Pape station, swipe my Metropass, run down the stairs and then back up the escalator leading to the buses, and then just exit onto Lipton Ave or (b) turn around and cold-cock him.

I’m not sure what the problem was there. Either he thought I was being a buttinsky who shouldn’t be prying into their private drama or he thought I was a pervert just checking out her panty-clad ass. I did see it as I was glancing down in genuine concern, but it was kind of hard not to, as she was giving an upskirt shot to the entire neighborhood. I figure it was more likely the latter, as she seemed pissed off too, but I don’t know for sure what I did to offend them. It’s not like what I did around the same time last night, when I complained about my sore feet as I walked by a guy in a wheelchair who probably would have given anything to be able to even feel his feet. At least I know what I did to offend that guy.

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