Spring Break
Welcome to the jungle
One night sleeping on the city's streets grants new perspective on Boston's homeless
by Joel Herzfeld
Features | 10/9/07
Posted online at 9:38 PM EST on 10/8/07
/ Last updated at 12:13 AM EST on 10/8/07
It's midnight, and I am alone in Boston. I am without food, water, money or a cell phone. My mission here is simple: I am here because I want to experience what it's like to be homeless in a city.
I walked into Boston earlier in the day, and I'll walk back tomorrow. My legs hurt. I'm tired. I've just departed from College Night at the warm and soft Museum of Fine Arts, and Boston lies ominous before me.
My fear is primal. I am a primitive man alone in the wilderness to fend for himself. But there is nothing romantic about my condition. I don't feel like killing something and eating it as much as I feel like finding a deep cave to hide in. I feel vulnerable. I start to walk. What else can I do?
I've eaten next to nothing all day, and I'm hungry. I steal into the back alleys behind storefronts in search of food. I set off a motion-activated light and scramble to get out of the vicinity before anyone can see me and come out with a newspaper to shoo me away. I feel like an possum.
I used to enjoy dumpster diving, but there's no pleasure in crawling into sticky dumpsters to slash hungrily at black bags filled with slime and already-decomposing refuse with one eye focused over my shoulder on the perpetual lookout for cops. My dinner consists of the two or three least coffee-soaked doughnuts from behind a Dunkin' Donuts and some old pizza scraps from a corner garbage can.
My wanderings have brought me to Copley Square. There are a few people sleeping on benches, as good a place as any to spend the night, I figured. One of the homeless people notices my approach and my nice shirt, a vestige of my evening at the MFA.
He asks me for money, or maybe a cigarette. "I think I'll sleep here," I tell him as I settle on an adjacent bench. It feels good to be off my feet. His tone changes immediately.
He asks me if I'm all right.
"Listen," he tells me. "You don't want to sleep here. There're a lot of wise guys round these parts. Go sleep in the Back Bay [subway] station."
I walked into Boston earlier in the day, and I'll walk back tomorrow. My legs hurt. I'm tired. I've just departed from College Night at the warm and soft Museum of Fine Arts, and Boston lies ominous before me.
My fear is primal. I am a primitive man alone in the wilderness to fend for himself. But there is nothing romantic about my condition. I don't feel like killing something and eating it as much as I feel like finding a deep cave to hide in. I feel vulnerable. I start to walk. What else can I do?
I've eaten next to nothing all day, and I'm hungry. I steal into the back alleys behind storefronts in search of food. I set off a motion-activated light and scramble to get out of the vicinity before anyone can see me and come out with a newspaper to shoo me away. I feel like an possum.
I used to enjoy dumpster diving, but there's no pleasure in crawling into sticky dumpsters to slash hungrily at black bags filled with slime and already-decomposing refuse with one eye focused over my shoulder on the perpetual lookout for cops. My dinner consists of the two or three least coffee-soaked doughnuts from behind a Dunkin' Donuts and some old pizza scraps from a corner garbage can.
My wanderings have brought me to Copley Square. There are a few people sleeping on benches, as good a place as any to spend the night, I figured. One of the homeless people notices my approach and my nice shirt, a vestige of my evening at the MFA.
He asks me for money, or maybe a cigarette. "I think I'll sleep here," I tell him as I settle on an adjacent bench. It feels good to be off my feet. His tone changes immediately.
He asks me if I'm all right.
"Listen," he tells me. "You don't want to sleep here. There're a lot of wise guys round these parts. Go sleep in the Back Bay [subway] station."
Viewing Comments 1 - 2 of 2
gina
posted 10/09/07 @ 7:10 AM EST
this is a wonderful account, and a unique experience. you might want to write next about community service programs in Boston for the homeless... also i now want to know why these people are homeless. (Continued…)
Daniel Ortner
posted 6/02/08 @ 3:34 AM EST
This was my favorite article of the year and I wanted to in retrospect leave a comment and say how fascinating and moving it was to me.
Thanks Joel
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