The Plight of the Destitute

Unlike the vast majority of Calgarians, my daily commute to work is by bicycle. 5 miles each way, the bulk of which is paved trail riding through the Calgary City Zoo and all along the Bow River. It’s really quite a nice way to start the day off… not having to fight through traffic, not having to breathe exhaust fumes, not spending $1.25/L on fuel, not having to wait for a train, etc.

Occasionally, as I get closer to the downtown core, I see some strange things. More often than not, these strange things I see involve homeless people. For those unfamiliar with Calgary, this city has experienced an insane boom over the last few years, and one by-product of the unchecked growth has been a sharp increase in homelessness. Housing prices go up, low-income people get priced out of the place they were living in, end up on the streets. It’s quite a big problem that our city officials don’t seem to be in a huge hurry to fix. I think they’re too busy stopping traffic by fixing every street in the city limits, but I digress.

I feel for the homeless, I really do. The Mrs. and I are regular donors to various shelters/kitchens. I often carry some non-perishable food items in my messenger bag to give to someone who looks hungry. Some people are quick to say that most homeless people are in that state because of their own bad choices (drugs/alcohol/whatever), but personally, I don’t give a shit what put them there. I see someone who’s hungry, end of fucking story.

Somedays, though, it’s tough. One morning, biking through downtown, I was stopped at a red light, and a homeless lady ran up to me SCREAMING at me, “IT’S YOUR FAULT! YOU DID THIS! IT’S YOUR GODDAMN FAULT! YOU’RE GONNA PAY!” This was followed by her throwing, no word of a lie, an empty hairspray bottle at me. Now, I’m pretty certain that there was something going on (or, more accurately, something missing) below the surface there, so when the light changed I pedaled off, no worse for the wear (the bottle was empty, after all).

This week, though, riding to work in the morning, I pull around a bend in the trail to come face to, uh… face (and more) with a homeless guy pissing right in the middle of the path. I see homeless guys taking leaks all the time, but usually in the bushes, up against a tree, whatever. But dude is taking a whizz right where my 20mph ass is about to splash through, and hell if I want to have to clean THAT off of my mudflaps. I bank right, hard, off the trail to avoid the “splash zone” (first five rows!), and as I fly past I yell out “Jesus, man, at least use the bushes!”

Guy tells me to fuck off. Fantastic. I’ve got HIS piss on my tires, and he’s telling ME to fuck off.

Like I said, I feel for the homeless, I know the weight of the world seems to be against them, etc. Somedays, though, it’s hard to feel sympathy for a group of people who, I’ll be honest here, are sometimes just really difficult.

Does that make me a bad person? Feel free to say yes.