{"id":490,"date":"2008-09-21T09:23:11","date_gmt":"2008-09-21T16:23:11","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.sarahdopp.com\/blog\/?p=490"},"modified":"2008-09-21T09:40:40","modified_gmt":"2008-09-21T16:40:40","slug":"cold-and-alone-by-the-ocean","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/sarahdopp.com\/blog\/2008\/cold-and-alone-by-the-ocean\/","title":{"rendered":"Cold and alone by the ocean"},"content":{"rendered":"
Heads up, this content is 18 years old. Please keep its age in mind while reading.<\/div>

Walking down to the beach last night after dinner, I noticed there was a young athletic-looking guy lying on his back on a platform, shirtless and in basketball shorts, staring at the sky.\u00a0 It looked like a nice place to rest and look up. I walked past him.<\/p>\n

Before I got to the water, I heard a loud yell.\u00a0 Like an “AAH!”\u00a0 Then a pause.\u00a0 Then another one.\u00a0 Then I realized it was coming from him.\u00a0 No one else was close enough to notice it or respond.<\/p>\n

For a minute, I rolled my eyes and shot an accusatory glance at the ocean. That’s nice, but I have to work tonight. Get someone else, okay?<\/em><\/p>\n

Two more yells.<\/p>\n

Okay, fine. <\/em><\/p>\n

I walked up to him.\u00a0 “Hey! Are you okay?”<\/p>\n

He shook his head like he was trying to talk, and nothing came out.\u00a0 I saw that he was shivering, and took a few steps closer.<\/p>\n

“Hey.\u00a0 Do you need me to call an ambulance?<\/p>\n

He found my face and said, “No. No. No. Please.”<\/p>\n

“Okay. No problem. What do you need?\u00a0 Are you cold?\u00a0 Do you need a blanket?”<\/p>\n

“Yes.”<\/p>\n

“Okay. I’ll see what I can do.\u00a0 Did you take drugs?”<\/p>\n

“Yes.”<\/p>\n

“What kind of drugs?\u00a0 Did you take LSD?”<\/p>\n

“No.”<\/p>\n

My brain ran out of other drug ideas.\u00a0 “What did you take?”<\/p>\n

No response.\u00a0 I looked at his scattered stuff.\u00a0 There was a backpack, a textbook, a book called Kama Sutra for Gay Men<\/em>, a towel, and a jacket wrapped around his leg.\u00a0 He couldn’t move.\u00a0 I climbed onto the platform and wrapped the towel across his chest.\u00a0 I pulled the jacket off his leg, lifted him up by the shoulders, and placed it underneath his back.<\/p>\n

I ended up spending four hours with him.\u00a0 The first two were just sitting there, in the cold, trying to get him to talk.\u00a0 He passed out a few times and I shook him back awake.\u00a0 His name was Joey. He was 31.\u00a0 His parents were in Arizona.\u00a0 He hadn’t seen them in a long time and they didn’t accept him. He was gay.\u00a0 He was a massage therapist.\u00a0 He wanted to join the military.\u00a0 He loved to cook.\u00a0 He was addicted to meth, and was in a harm reduction program. He was homeless.\u00a0 He wouldn’t say whether this was a suicide attempt or not.<\/p>\n

After awhile, he sat up.\u00a0 He was convinced that I was in the military (it finally dawned on me: the haircut. right) and kept trying to convince me to let him join.\u00a0\u00a0 “I want to fight for freedom. I want people to know I’m strong. I want to cook for the troops in Iraq.\u00a0 I want to bring them comfort. Nobody ever fought for me.\u00a0 Nobody accepts me.\u00a0 Nobody’s there for me. I want to be there for them. They need me.”<\/p>\n

With much effort, we eventually got him to stand up and climb over the fence around the platform.\u00a0 After much many versions of the same question, he finally gave me the address to the shelter he was staying at, on the opposite end of the city.\u00a0 After much stumbling, we finally got him to my car.\u00a0 I put him in the back seat and let him lie down.<\/p>\n

“I’m hungry.”<\/p>\n

I had two eggrolls and some chicken curry in a leftovers container from my dinner.\u00a0 I handed them to him.\u00a0 He devoured them.<\/p>\n

“I’m hungry.”<\/p>\n

I took him to McDonalds and bought him a big sandwich, fries, and drink.<\/p>\n

“I’m hungry.”<\/p>\n

He insisted that he needed five <\/em>more sandwiches from the dollar menu, plus another large fry.\u00a0 I bought it for him on the condition that he wait until the shelter before he ate it.\u00a0 I really didn’t need him puking in my car.<\/p>\n

Outside of McDonalds, he bummed a cigarette from a nearby woman and introduced me as someone from the military. I corrected him, and said I wasn’t.\u00a0 After she walked away, he gave me a look of worry.\u00a0 “I’m sorry!\u00a0 Of course! Your work is secret!\u00a0 It’s classified!\u00a0 You can’t tell people! I didn’t know!\u00a0 You should have told me!\u00a0 I’m so sorry!\u00a0 You know I didn’t mean it.”<\/p>\n

He went on to beg me for advice and guidance on how he could get to where he wanted to go in life.\u00a0 What he wanted to do next.<\/p>\n

Driving down the street, heading toward the shelter, he asked me to let him off at the music store instead.<\/p>\n

“Are you sure?\u00a0 You’re going to have to find your own way back to the shelter if I leave you here.”<\/p>\n

“I know.\u00a0 I want to go here.\u00a0 I’m okay.”<\/p>\n

“Okay.”<\/p>\n

“But first.. Tell me what i need to do.\u00a0 You know, to get my life on track.”<\/p>\n

I ripped a piece of paper out of my notebook.\u00a0 “Okay, I’ll write you a letter.”\u00a0 He watched me from over my shoulder.<\/p>\n

Dear Joey,<\/strong><\/p>\n

I found you on the beach tonight.\u00a0 You were shivering and alone and crying out for help.\u00a0 I sat and talked with you for a few hours, and then we got some food.\u00a0 You ordered six sandwiches! <\/strong><\/p>\n

You thought I was in the military and you asked me how you can join.\u00a0 Here’s how you can join:<\/strong><\/p>\n

First, you need to get clean.\u00a0 They won’t take you if you’re on drugs. <\/strong><\/p>\n

Then, go to 670 Davis St in San Francisco, and talk to a recruiter.\u00a0 They will tell you what you need to do.<\/strong><\/p>\n

You want to fight for freedom.\u00a0 You love to cook. You’re a massage therapist. People love and accept you.\u00a0 You’re going to be OKAY.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Love,<\/strong>
\nSarah<\/strong><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

He cried as I wrote.\u00a0 I put the letter in his backpack, gave him a long hug, and told him he was okay.<\/p>\n

He nodded.<\/p>\n

And left.<\/p>\n

—-<\/p>\n

For those who weren’t watching my twitter or facebook updates last night, here are the smoke signals I sent:<\/em><\/p>\n

Beachwalking, passed a young guy shivering, crying, on too many drugs. Sat with him for two hours. Getting him food now. \t\t\t<\/span> \t\t \t\t \t\t\t \t\t\t about 13 hours<\/span> ago<\/a><\/span><\/p>\n

He’s gay. Parents far away. Keeps saying no one accepts him. Sez he wants to join the army to fight for freedom cuz nobody fights for him. <\/span> \t\t \t\t \t\t\t \t\t\t about 13 hours<\/span> ago<\/a><\/span><\/p>\n

Just figured it out: he thinks I’m in the military and is trying to convince me to let him in. Ah. The hair. Right. \t\t\t<\/span> \t\t \t\t \t\t\t \t\t\t about 13 hours<\/span> ago<\/a>\u00a0 \t\t\t \t\t\t<\/span><\/p>\n

I bought him what he wanted from mcdonalds: six mcchicken sandwiches, two large fries, and a coke. He promised not to eat it all at once. <\/span> \t\t \t\t \t\t\t \t\t\t about 13 hours<\/span> ago<\/a>\u00a0 \t\t\t \t\t\t<\/span><\/p>\n

I wrote him a letter before I dropped him off and had him put it in his bag. It described the night and told him he is loved and accepted. <\/span> \t\t \t\t \t\t\t \t\t\t about 12 hours<\/span> ago<\/a><\/span><\/p>\n

Home now. I think I spent three hours with him. He’s homeless, a meth addict. He kept repeating: “I want people to know I’m strong.” <\/span> \t\t \t\t \t\t\t \t\t\t about 12 hours<\/span> ago<\/a> <\/span><\/p>\n

He also kept repeating: “I love to cook. I want to cook for the troops in Iraq. I want to bring them comfort, to feel like home. Home.” <\/span> \t\t \t\t \t\t\t \t\t\t about 12 hours<\/span> ago<\/a>\u00a0 <\/span><\/p>\n

When I found him, it looked like a suicide attempt, and he begged me not to call 911. What would you have done in that position? \t\t\t<\/span> \t\t \t\t \t\t\t \t\t\t about 12 hours<\/span> ago<\/a>\u00a0 <\/span><\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Heads up, this content is 18 years old. Please keep its age in mind while reading.Walking down to the beach last night after dinner, I noticed there was a young athletic-looking guy lying on his back on a platform, shirtless and in basketball shorts, staring at the sky.\u00a0 It looked like a nice place to […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2,44],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-490","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-personal","category-philosophy"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/sarahdopp.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/490","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/sarahdopp.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/sarahdopp.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sarahdopp.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sarahdopp.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=490"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/sarahdopp.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/490\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/sarahdopp.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=490"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sarahdopp.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=490"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sarahdopp.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=490"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}