That Is A Nice Backpack
There is something about having to use a public restroom that is sobering.
I decided to leave my “new” apartment and walk to the Target for the necessities.
Upon arriving, my most urgent necessity became a trip to the restroom.
I find myself sitting in a stall with a homeless man on one side, undoubtedly, taking care of an urgent need of his own.
On my other side is another homeless man of singular focus. I hear him say, “Is this anybody’s backpack? Man, that sure is a nice backpack.”
He keeps this up for a while.
I saw the backpack when I came in (leaned against the wall). I can’t tell you for sure if it was indeed as nice as my neighbor felt it was.
The man continues. “That is a nice backpack.” “Is this your backpack?”
I finally feel compelled to respond. I’m not real accustomed to talking from a seated position in a public restroom. I decide to keep it pithy.
“It isn’t mine,” I inform him.
Finally, my neighbor in the stall next door makes it clear that the object of our friend’s affection, in fact, belongs to him.
Glad that’s settled.
I finish my business and walk to the sink. Still, the man continues to wax poetic about the backpack.
What can I learn from this? I was a little down about a shitty apartment and here was a guy impressed with a backpack.
A crazy bastard for sure.
But he made me think about being grateful for what I do have.
And I need to be very careful with where I put my backpack.
(This was a story from my time in Minneapolis several years ago. I have had no new backpack adventures since.)