Yesterday I inadvertently let my car run out of gas. Now, if that had been Batmen-my old car-I wouldn't be so upset about it. But we're talking about my baby, Phoenix--my pride and joy. (Seriously, if I could get away with carrying pictures of him in my wallet I would. I freaking love this car. My dream mustang.)
So, there I was in downtown, in my church clothes, stranded and stuck in the middle of the road. Of course as soon as the numerous people standing around noticed I was in need of help they all rushed to my side.
False.
Instead the numerous people sitting on their porches and walking the streets watched me as I preceded to push my car, by myself, to the side of the road. In fact one of them even came up afterwards and commented on the fact that my car was crooked. For an excruciatingly long ten minutes I waited for Ashley as person after person walked by.
Once she got there a homeless man walked up and immediately offered his help.
How many times have I heard people complain about homeless people? At least once a day. Growing up in a small town, I never saw homeless people...it wasn't until I moved here that I saw homeless people on a daily basis. They are everywhere, and for every homeless person I see, there are ten other people complaining about how awful they are. But who helped me when I needed it? The people sitting on the porches of their houses? Or the man with no porch to sit on?
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