the need for rubbers in SF

rainboots.jpg

I have given into the trend and bought a pair of rainboots with the intention of walking in the rain from bart to work with a dry confidence…the only issue…we have not had any rain. One day a week ago it was sprinkling outside so I thought, “Yes! Today is my day to wear my wellies!” Unfortunately the light sprinkle was all the moisture amounted to and I looked a little silly with my big rubbers on. If anything, it was wonderful to not have to really worry about what I was stepping in…which leads me to this story…

Some may consider it paranoia, others see it as careful stepping…when I walk on the sidewalks in San Francisco I never look up. I am always focused on what is below me and whether or not I am stepping on human feces, piss, spit or puke. I have seen it all and I have seen it all far too often. Not kidding. Farrrrrrrrrrrrrr too often. I know this is common in cities, but it is really sad and pretty gross.

I have not seen my buddy in quite some time, but there is one homeless man whose territory is the one street I walk on to get to work. The first time I saw him he was sitting off the curb during morning rush hour and pooing. Tons of people passed him by and he didn’t seem to care. This was moment #1 when the paranoia began. The second time I saw him, all I saw was his backside and between the legs a gushing waterfall. Again, during morning rush hour. Third viewing he was crossing the street with his pants down then he popped a squat on the curb to do a #2.  During my lunch hour that day I sat in a park and noticed that a homeless man was sleeping near a curb. I seriously looked over my shoulder every few minutes to make sure he wasn’t pooing. The fourth time I wasn’t paying attention and I hear a police car pull up. A storeowner had called the cops because I guess my buddy had been harassing their employees. When I saw him on the ground I also saw his peeper as he began to relieve himself. At that point my heart sank and I felt so bad for the guy. My feelings went from disgust to pure sadness. I really hope my buddy can find a place for himself somewhere in this world and feel like people care.

Author: Ali Carras

At a very young age I lost site of my mom in a local grocery store in Boulder, Colorado. I did, however, have the smarts to go to the customer service counter. The kind woman at the counter asked “What is your name little girl?” My reply: “Assi.” The woman gave me a look like, “Are you playing with me you little devil?” but she proceeded to blast on the loudspeaker the “We have a lost Assi at the front of the store.” Customers throughout the store gagged and giggled, but my mom knew exactly who the woman was referring to: the mullet haired little girl with a tongue too big for her mouth, wearing a leotard, skirt, tights, and jelly shoes (with florescent green laces in them…even though they didn’t need the laces). A shy little character for whom every little detail in life was a huge thing. I am pleased to report that today I am able to fully pronounce Allison (aka Ali), but the Assi pseudonym has always stuck, evolving into Aszi. As for the shy little character for whom every little detail in life was a huge thing? Some things never change.

I have closed my comments due to mass amounts of spam that no filter could ever control. Feel free to contact me abeckord [at] gmail.com!

© 2017 AsziChild