(from 05-19-01)

Waiting for the 14 Mission bus at 16th Street and Mission on a Friday Afternoon

I know he is about to come up to me by the way he edges towards me at the bus shelter. He looks at me, smiles and shuffles closer. When he finally talks, it's no surprise but then he goes and asks, "Hey, are those your real teeth?" I am taken aback and laugh at the unexpected question and answer, "Yup. No dentures yet."

(I am used to strangers telling me my hair looks fake or that my lipstick is nice. But fake teeth?!)

He then informs me about how dentures are awful, especially when you are homeless and have limited choices with food. He is 58 and has had to wear dentures for twenty years but today he feels fine cuz he scored some dope and acquired a ring to sale at the pawn shop on Mission by 6th. He tells me I should floss everyday which I know I should do. Suddenly I feel like he is my dentist and I change the subject.

We are talking about how expensive San Francisco is and how if you are poor or homeless it's ridiculous. The shelters are a joke and the day hotels rip you off more than the Hilton. He moved here a year ago and ever since has regretted the decision. The 14 comes, late and packed of course, and at least fifteen people pile into the back door. I scramble in front of some slow ass teenagers and hesitant hipster looking kids and grab a seat in the back. My new friend follows and we continue chatting it up about money, dope and ways to obtain money and dope. When the bus stops at 6th Street, he gets off to sell the ring and look for a place to stay using heroin as the currency. He waves goodbye, I wish him good fortune and the doors shut as the bus continues to roll down Mission. An older blonde woman lets me know (under her breath) that I have "tolerant listening skills" with a wink. I roll my eyes, put on the earphones and wait for my stop.