I love that moment when you and a man meet glances and he has a gleam in his eyes that says, "I’d suck dick for some crack right now."

 
Seeing as I live but footsteps from Colfax — the longest commercial street in the U.S., as well as the dirtiest and most hobo-ridden — I get to see Denver’s crème de la crème on a daily basis. In fact, while walking my dog just the other day, a skinny old man with a grey Grizzly Adam’s beard (and a wooden stick — a resource oft times utilized by dumpster divers) popped his head out of the trash receptacle behind my apartment building and whistled in my direction. You heard it here first, folks: men want this.

While some homeless people in town are friendly and harmless — much like everyone’s favorite domestically disabled fellow with the “SAVIN FOR A ‘HOOKER,’ THANKX” sign — more than a few bums throughout town pick, scratch, twitch and tweak their way down the street while stumbling in your direction and trying to fuck your dog (I really wish that wasn’t a literal example).

This can be an especially creepy moment for some people but, personally, I find nothing more special than that moment when you and a man meet glances and he has a gleam in his eyes that can only mean, "I’d suck dick for some crack right now." Sadly, I have neither crack, nor dick, so our ever-so-special of exchanges ends there and on he stumbles toward Colfax — the melting pot of questionable morals.

Perhaps next time such an incident occurs, I’ll walk my new friend to the alley behind the McDonalds on Colfax and Penn and introduce him to Prison Shank, the neighborhood drug dealer. Ok, I must admit that I have no idea what this meth/crack/crank/ice slinger’s name really is. However, I do know that once, when returning home after using the Red Box (always a slightly frightening affair, seeing as this McDonalds is the home base for hobos), I saw this gangsta-esque fellow exchanging money for a lil baggie of something illegal and I almost walked over to see what he had to offer.

I mean, having a dealer in the neighborhood can have its advantages, but luckily I decided I didn’t want to get stabbed and/or raped, and therefore curiosity did not kill the pussy cat. Plus, I’ve seen those Faces of Meth ads and I can’t be ruining this mug of mine. I guess in the mean time, we’ll just have to swap glances and go on with our lives — me working, partying, sleeping; and he giving rim jobs in rest rooms in exchange for drugs.