The Side Effects of Endorphins

I don’t believe there’s one person, one encounter, one miracle that can restore complete faith in people. So for now, let’s just drop the hyperbole and be realistic and rephrase the question as, describe a complete stranger, that made your day that much better.

I talked to strangers often and I believe encounters such as this, more often reinforce ourselves as human beings and somehow we ourselves can be better.

My Pictures of You – Cool Hyperbolic Concept

Sandwich

This was no longer the lukewarm winter cold that is Atlanta. Amanda traveled here hoping to connect with her once alcoholic parents. The people in Portland enthusiastically used mass transit and this evening the Max train was busy with plenty of commotion. She had come to Atlanta to look for her father. Her father was once a successful man but the years in the war had taken their toll. She was not sure she would recognize him. Life on the streets, wreaks havoc on a person. She was worried whether she could identify him. She barely knew him anymore. This was especially true in the winter as those in the streets tend to blend in their attempts to stay warm.

 A sobbing out of control girl sat akimbo on the train ride into town. It was tough to decipher which crisis she was between. It was a half-empty Max train car on a frosty winter night and for unknown reasons the window was half open. The loudness and severity of the baby crying added an edge to the other passengers. Still, nobody said a word and a disheveled owl-like woman expressed nervous concern for the girl.

She thought, was she in danger or was she dangerous? She walked over to, then sat next to her and asked if she was okay. She asked her if she was in any danger. The baby only cried louder, and the mother said through sobs “thanks for asking, Sometimes I think about dying and I don’t see a problem with it. It is only natural. Yet sometimes it makes me feel sad almost morose.”

The sobbing girl soon rushed toward the doors sniffling uncontrolled sobs. Amanda noticed she had a Victoria’s Secret bag in her hand. She left the train with that secret. The woman sitting next to her, once again thanked her for checking on them.

She exited the train toward the Hollywood station with the snow swirling capriciously. She pushed a nonexistent curl behind her ear. She asked the transient standing on the corner, who was passively begging for change a simple question. There was no hesitation in her voice.

“Could you lend me a quarter? “

The man in the blanket laughed and told her to bugger off. She then took a little side trail that led below the under path. She did not dress properly for the occasion as mud splashed up the back of her legs. She just bought these tights a few days ago. She approached another man huddled next to a roaring fire. She yelled out, “hey there Bender” using the last name of her father. He could have been her father, and who knew on a cold wet night such as this.

Craig Bender hastily cleared the snow that had accumulated on his mustache and stared at the girl for a good long time. Yes, people who are homeless have a name. They are not all John Doe number nine. He looked her square in the eye as his hands trembled from the cold. A shiver went straight up his spine. It was not a shiver from the cold but rather a shiver of significance. He had a challenging time holding her probing eyes. Eventually he simply looked away. As the shiver subsided, he remembered the man he used to be. For a moment, he thought he recognized the girl. His vision clouded tonight from this recent bitter cold and his accumulated bad eating habits. He was not drinking heavily tonight. A sparkle returned to his eyes as he slowly opened the girl’s hand and softly put a quarter into her gloved hand. Her hands were warm, fuzzy, and smelled slightly of patchouli.

It was usually he who asked for spare change. She smiled slightly, tilted her head to the right, and spoke. “Could you kindly give me another quarter tomorrow as I will be back here if you want me to be?” 

He looked more confused than ever; however, a certain calm came over him. He was quite sure of the source of the calm. She silently handed him a package wrapped in tin foil. He took the tin foiled package silently with slight trepidation. It took him a long time as his fingers were slow to warm to the task. The quiet of the snow falling was deafening. The package felt heavy in his hands.

She walked away silently into the driven dry powdered snow appearing angelic in the night. She seemed to glow from the inside as she passed in his vision. She was a figure disappearing into a snow blasted streetlight. When she disappeared, he was alone in silence.

Craig stood alone, snow accumulating on the bridge of his nose. With his eight months being homeless, Craig conditioned himself to avoid feeling hungry. Craig rocked rhythmically and unwrapped the silver package presented to him a mere five minutes ago. He opened it slowly and he could feel that it had a familiar give. His vision was horrific still, he could feel that it was a sandwich. He had a primal urge to take a large greedy mouthful. He took the sandwich to his mouth, and he felt he was losing his sight and his smell and most other senses for that part. Then he got a smell so strong in the night one that even he could not ignore. He could not even smell himself anymore. Yes, the smell of limburger cheese. Yes, limburger cheese is so aromatic and rancid they rarely ship any more as it spoils all the other cheeses. The smell singed his nose for a brief beautiful second. Instantly he took a bite, and he did not gobble it down but rather he savored the acrid, salty, sweet taste in his mouth. With this bite, tears suddenly welled in his eyes. He slowly walked back to his fire under the overpass that only had a few hot embers. He added a few two by fours to the fire and within minutes, it was burning strongly. He kept adding wood to the fire one by one. Predictably, the fire grew to more than necessary to keep him warm for the night. He was going to sleep well. Limburger and onions were his favorite sandwich and only two people in the world knew that. He looked forward to tomorrow with respectful nervousness. This is where he usually screwed things up.

He put the sandwich in his sleeping bag, as he wanted to savor the smell and thank the snow angel. For once sleep came easy that night.