Forever a part of the Greyhound crowd

I have to introduce this entry by telling you a little about our new home, OlyWa. The city has a certain j'ne sais quois. Don't let the fancy French expression fool you. Here, "j'ne sais quois" alludes to the city's grittiness, edginess, rawness. It is hard to describe the place—cool, but a little rough around the edges.

Oly is full of transients. Old, young, men, women, many addicts (and sadly, many young addicts—think Tiny, in Mary Ellen Mark's Streetwise) The best way to describe them is "the Greyhound crowd." And, given my many opportunities to "Go Greyhound" (more times than I can count) and befriend the riders, I regard them as my peeps.

Why are there so many transients here in Oly? I think because 1) though rainy, the weather is quite temperate, rarely dipping below freezing in the winter and 2) there are a lot of social service agencies that cater to the poor and homeless in town.

Though there are pretty many "street people" (for lack of a better word),—it's difficult to navigate through downtown without passing quite a few—they never strike me as particularly annoying or threatening. In fact, when panhandlers ask me for money, and I say, "No, Sorry," it is not uncommon to hear them reply in all sincerity, "OK, thanks anyway! Have a great day!" They always seem surprisingly pleasant given their situation.

Among one of the services in town is a table that gets set up somewhere downtown, usually in an unobstrusive location, in front of a store or in a parking lot. People can go to the table and get food and water. I'm not really sure how it works—I've just noticed a crowd around the table from time to time.

I've also noticed a giant tricycle with saddlebags being driven around town. Transients seem to gather around this bike, too, so I've always guessed it was a source of relief, maybe distributing food and water as well.

The other night, SMH and I took Loki for walk downtown. We decided to go into Starbucks and get a treat. I have to describe here my appearance: I didn't know that we'd be stopping anywhere, so I looked pretty shlubby, wearing old jeans, a sweatshirt, a cap and a coat that's just a little too big for me.

So, there we are, sitting just outside Starbuck's eating our treat, enjoying the clear night and mild weather, when the guy on the giant tricycle comes riding across the street. He slows down when he sees us and gives me a sweet, sympathetic, even imploring smile. Thinking he's a friendly local biker, I get a little uncomfortable, but smile back, avoiding eye contact.

Then, he pedals past us and goes to the guy sitting a few tables away. He chats with the gentleman, then pulls something out of the bike saddlebags and gives it to the guy. "Oh," I say to SMH, "that's cool. I bet he collects leftover food from restaurants, then delivers it to the homeless in the evenings."

And then it hits me: He thought we were transients!!! That's why he slowed way the hell down when he saw us and looked at us sympathetically, as if to say, "Will you be needing anything from my cart tonight?"

I guess you can take the girl out of the Greyhound but you can't take the Greyhound out of the girl.