The-Guy-Who-Knows-A-Song-About-A-Chicken and some friends and I went to Lola's last night and there was no crackhead outside to watch our car. That's because it has yet again gotten too cold for hanging around on street corners here in tropical Houston, Texas.
Dag nab it.
I don't have any really good pictures of Lola's, but of course have a picture of the toilet in the men's room from my bar bathrooms tour:Normally when we go to a bar near downtown, a crackhead offers to watch our car. And then we're supposed to pay him some measly amount that presumably he's going to spend on beer or crack or what have you. But they DON'T spend every penny on mind altering substances. Or at least all of them don't.
I happen to know because one day I was stopped at a traffic light back in the early 90s in my shiny, new red pick up truck. Being somewhere around 22 years old, I also had a six pack of beer rolling around the floorboard of the passenger seat.
A pan handler appeared at my window and asked if I had any change. Change?!?! I didn't have change! Or dollar bills either for that matter.
What I did have was my cute little apartment, the one and only new car I have ever bought, a few snacks, and a six pack of beer. That pretty much precludes the existence of spare change.
Still, I had some things and out of those options, I offered they guy snacks and beer. He was willing to take the snacks. But as for the beer, he told me, "I don't drink."
Even at 22, it was a little embarrassing. HE was the street person, but I was the drinker? Mostly it was a relief though, because that meant that all those people who told me, "Don't give those people money! They'll only spend it on alcohol!" were exaggerating at best.
Even so I had already decided it really didn't matter to me WHAT the bums did with the money. My only worry was whether or not I wanted to give a quarter if I happened to have one. It's totally the street person's own responsibility how to spend all those measly earnings.
I actually don't know what substances they are or aren't abusing, really. I just know that I've always heard the people who hang out downtown offering to watch cars for money referred to as crackheads.
And I know that I'm the one who is going inside to drink, after all. And I know that my car has never been broken into while a "crackhead" has been watching it.
So hopefully it will warm up before we hit the bars again. Because I don't own clothing adequate for 30 degree weather. And neither do the street people. Apparently.