This was a watershed moment for me that put my faith in humanity to the test. I basically believe most people are honest and decent. If given the chance, most people will behave properly. Unfortunately, our faith is tainted by those who take advantage of others. We fear being taken advantage of, or worse -- being victimized.

 

Las Vegas is a city of second-chances. It's a city where almost everyone living here comes from someplace else. Many who move to this city are running away from problems, hoping to forget their past, and start their over again. Las Vegas -- with all of its carnal diversions -- is a city that can make you forget the past very quickly.

Tonight, I met a stranger named "Bill." Our meeting was purely a chance encounter. I was riding my bicycle and waiting at a red light on the corner of Sahara and Decatur -- one of Las Vegas' busiest intersections. I noticed a man who looked to be homeless laying down on the cool grass watching the traffic pass by.

"Hey man, how's it going?" the man asked.

I barely heard the man's question, his voice drowned out by the noise of the passing traffic.

I nodded towards him and said "hello."

"You got a smoke, my friend?" came his next question.

"Sorry, I don't smoke," I replied.

"That's okay, those damn things'll kill ya' anyway," he said.

I noticed that man had a large ruffled-up backpack, stuffed with his personal belongings at his side. He used the knapsack as a pillow. He had spread an old blanket out on the grass and seemed to be entertained by the constant parade of vehicles and passersby. He was "people watching," which can be a fascinating exercise.

One thing I've come to know about homeless people is that many of these unfortunate souls are actually very bright people, who once had good families, stable careers, and productive lives. Many got caught up in personal problems -- addicted to vices usually of their own doing -- and ended up living out on the streets. A smaller number, through no fault of their own, ended up homeless, the victims of an economic downturn and tough times in our corporate-based culture of trying to accumulate the most toys (i.e. the bullshit line -- "He with the most toys, wins"). Homeless people deserve respect, at least the same respect and courtesy you would give to any stranger.

To wit -- I once heard from a homeless man that the one thing that makes living on the streets the most difficult -- is not the lack of resources or access to physical comforts. It's the anonymity, the being treated as a non-person, being treated as "invisible" by regular people with jobs and families. We ignore the homeless and pretend they don’t exist. It's much easier to look away and pretend there are no problems, than to confront the reality of a human being in trouble with problems. In India, this class is called "the Untouchables." It seems we also have the same "caste" system here.

The light turned green, which gave me the feedom to pass and leave the homeless man behind. And, that exactly what I intended to do. I felt the urge to ride away and forget about the man. However, I also felt myself drawn to the man, longing to help him in some way -- perhaps just by offering a kind word or a bit of casual conversation to a man in need of someone he could call a friend.

"How long have you been sitting out here?" I asked.

"Oh, most of the day. I'm hoping to go around tomorrow to find some kind of work at one of the restaurants (there are dozens of restaurants located near this intersection). You think someone will hire me?"

Wow -- that was a tough question to answer. I looked the man over from head to toe. He had a lengthy beard, half white, and half dark gray. His long hair had not been combed in weeks. I presumed that he had not bathed in many days, either. The man appeared functional and clearly was not suffering from any mental disorder. But one look at the man, and I had to admit that a stranger might draw a different conclusion that was far less flattering. I knew the answer to his questions -- and he knew it, too. It would be tough for this man to find a job.

"What kind of work are you looking for?" I asked.

"Bank President," he said.

I had to laugh. The man had a good sense of humor. I put the kickstand down on my bike and walked over and sat down with the man on the grass at the busy intersection. I learned that the man's name is "Bill." Then, I learned much more.

He told me his story. Bill worked many years in Oceanside (California). He had a live-in girlfriend for many years and they had a child together. He worked in a motorcycle repair shop as a mechanic. Bill admits he got hooked on drugs several years ago and it was all downhill from there. He lost everything -- his girlfriend, his job, and his child. He says he doesn't even know where they live anymore. Surely, there was a painful past to this man. He said he came to Las Vegas because there was no place else to go.

Bill said he's been in Las Vegas for about a month, now. He worked in a temporary labor pool as a day laborer, but had some problems with his documentation, so he was not allowed to work there any more. He admits he still smokes regularly and drinks, but doesn't do drugs anymore. He stayed at the local homeless shelter in Las Vegas for a while, but decided to leave the shelter and make it on his own because the homeless culture makes it difficult to escape the cycle of poverty -- at least that's the way he explains it.

Weathered by the sun, wind, and life experiences, and fueled by intoxicants, Bill had become something of an amateur philosopher, with thought-provoking ideas and opinions on many subjects. He has used his time alone to reflect on his life and observe what he now sees. Unlike most of us who are so caught up in our lives to notice what the hell is going on around us, this man dropped out of life and took his own sabbatical of poverty. To hear Bill talk -- he was more interesting than 90 percent of the "normal" people I meet daily. The only difference is -- Bill is a homeless person. That means, he doesn't have the opportunity to share his thoughts with others as much as the rest of us. After all- who wants to listen to a homeless man?

I was stuck in a moral dilemma. My conscious said to help this man out. Offer him a hot meal, some clean clothes, or a shower since my apartment was nearby. If he was cleaned up, maybe someone would hire him and he'd get a job tomorrow and start a new life. What Bill needed was a "break." Who would give it to him? Who would give Bill the break that he needed?

This was a watershed moment for me that put my faith in humanity to the test. I basically believe most people are honest and decent. If given the chance, most people will behave properly. Unfortunately, our faith is tainted by those who take advantage of others. We fear being taken advantage of, or worse -- being victimized.

Faced with a dilemma, I finally reached a philosophical compromise. I sincerely wanted to help Bill out. But, as a realist, I'm sad to say I did not have enough faith in humanity to open my home to this total stranger. The best thing I could possibly give him was a place to sleep and a hot shower. But, I would not take that risk. I could not afford to take that risk. I felt bad that my sense of realism and perhaps even cynicism has caused me to think this way. But that's the cost of living in the modern world -- having your idealism crushed by stark reality.

So instead, Bill and I went over to a restaurant on the corner, called El Pollo Loco. "The crazy chicken," in Spanish. I bought Bill dinner and joined him as we ate together. During our conversation, Bill never asked me for money nor requested a handout. He did ask another stranger for a cigarette, who obliged. As Bill puffed on his cigarette, his backpack in tow, we talked a bit longer out in front of the restaurant. I then decided it was time to make my way and leave. We exchanged best wishes and when the traffic light turned green, I waved goodbye and left Bill behind.

I still wonder if I should have done more to help the stranger. Spending $5 to help a hungry man eat was certainly no sacrifice. But in looking back now, I think the best thing I gave Bill on this night was some personal respect, and a reinvigorated sense of worth as a human being.