Homeless on homeless

Standing on the street waiting to see an apartment, Eric and I watched the humanity show at Church and Market.

There was a homeless man collapsed on the street about 25 feet away. He was clutching a fifth of something that appeared to be empty. It was either the contents of the bottle or some other thin liquid that streamed away from the middle of his prone body and down the sidewalk. He was either doing pilates or struggling to sit up: he kept lifting his head and shoulders off the ground, hovering for a moment, and then collapsing back down.

All flavors of hipster, fresh young ingenue, steampunk, angry older Asian woman, and muscly gay man streamed past as we continued to wait to see the apartment.

A homeless looking fellow wearing a too large suit and untied sneakers walked by and as he walked past the prone homeless man he gave him a good swift kick.

Then, not more than two minutes later, an older homeless man doing a good job of staggering down the block, paused his bobbing and weaving to yell at his collapsed comrade.

"What is it about passed out homeless people that makes other homeless people so mad?" wondered Eric aloud.

I called the guy who was supposed to be showing us the apartment. He was flaking on us. We merged into the parade of humanity and went on our way.