Thursday, 10/21/10 - The Happy Place

"Hey, Buddy, can you help me out?"

I am one of those people. You know, the kind that has "sucker" written on his forehead in big red letters. No matter where I go there is someone asking me for something. Even with all of the other people on the street, it didn't surprise me that he selected me to ask for money.

I watched him sift through the change in his open palm.

"Can you spare twenty seven cents?"

The number surprised me and rather than lowering my head, muttering something like "not today" and picking up my pace, I stopped and took a good look at this person in need of twenty seven cents.

He had on a worn tee shirt, shorts specked with paint and showing signs that he had at one time wiped his hands, dirty with engine grease, down the sides. His sandals looked comfortable, the way they can only be after too many years and too many miles. There was stubble on his chin and cheeks. In short, he looked like an average male on a lazy Saturday afternoon.

"Twenty seven cents?" It was such an odd request that I wanted to know more but didn't want to come right out and ask. "Not a dollar or just some spare change?"

"No, I just need twenty seven cents."

My fingers were finding the change in the bottom of my pocket. I was going to give him the twenty seven cents but before I did, I wanted to know what he needed it for. "And what are you going to do with twenty seven cents?"

"I'm going to go to the happy place."

I pulled my empty hand out of my pocket and with mixed emotions started walking away. "I'm sorry, not today."

I don't mind helping someone in need but I am not giving money, even a small amount, to someone for alcohol or drugs.

He took a few steps after me. "It's not like that."

"It's not like what?"

"It's not for drugs or anything."

I thought about it and considered what he could possibly get for a little more than a quarter. "So, what's it for?"

"The bus. I have a dollar and twenty three cents. The fare is a buck and a half."

We were only a couple of steps away from the bus stop, he might be telling the truth. My hand was back in my pocket. It was only a couple of pennies and a quarter. It wasn't going to make a difference to either of us.

I pulled out the coins in my pocket and poked at them with my finger, locating a quarter. There were no pennies so I added a nickle and handed him the thirty cents.

"Thank you." As I turned away he stopped me. "Here."

He held out three pennies. I put them in my pocket with the rest of the change.

As I started walking away a shadow fell across the sidewalk and behind me I heard the snorting dragon breath sound of a diesel bus braking.

Curious to see if I had been taken, I looked back. The man in the shorts was reaching up, grabbing the handrail and stepping up into the bus. I watched through the window as he paid his fare and took a seat.

The bus hissed and spit, sent up a plume of black smoke then angled away from the curb. As it eased into traffic I read the lighted marquee on back: #15: The Happy Place.

I have lived in this city my whole life. I have never owned a car. All of my travels have been by cab, subway or by bus and I have never seen or heard of the number fifteen bus with the final destination of The Happy Place.

As the bus turned the corner I could see the man with the shorts seated halfway back.

All of the other seats were empty.