Hennessy and Homelessness

Peter Moran
Sep 7, 2018 · 7 min read

I met Vaughn on my way back from the gym one Saturday. He held the door open for me at the 7/11 as I went to grab a protein shake. 7/11 protein shakes taste like vanilla milkshakes and they’re reasonably priced. Vaughn wasn’t there for the milk-shake-tasting protein shakes, however, he was just trying to scrape together a few bucks. New York City has an incredibly high amount of homeless people on its streets; Vaughn was one of them. He was clearly going to ask me for something on the way out, but I didn’t have any change on me. That’s pretty standard; even street vendors in the city are adapting to newer technology and accepting Venmo and credit cards. I wonder how our increasingly digital society is going to affect the amount our homeless population is given. I don’t give money to homeless people often because I’m honestly a lot more selfish with my finances than I probably should be. One time I went to to give a guy a dollar and when I opened my wallet I realized a ten was the smallest bill I had. It hurt me giving it to him. So selfish. But I respected the way this 7/11 guy hustled, getting the door for me and then asking for something in return. I spent part of my career in sales and I never once tried to preemptively just give whichever good/service I was presenting and then ask for payment, but nonetheless, the way he was operating made me want to give him something. He’d set himself apart and in my infinite arrogance I appreciated him putting me in the position to reward him. But again, I had no cash on me. As I walked out the door with my delicious protein shake he did what I thought he would do and I told him my conundrum.

“Wanna grab a drink?” I asked, gesturing to the bar next door. I’d had a really slow day and this was my first social interaction aside from the cashier with whom I’d just spoken. I figured it was early enough in the day that any power-hungry bouncer wouldn’t attempt to turn us away for the way we were dressed. Vaughn probably wouldn’t make the cover of GQ in his old jeans and dusty jacket, but he was still dressed sharper than I was in my gym attire.

“Sure,” he nodded, grabbing his bag and following me. I quickly gulped my shake down as if I could complete the recovery my workout required in the next five minutes before consuming empty calories in the form of a Bud Light. I’m not a nutritionist, but my logic was flawed. Vaughn laughed when I explained what I was doing, but he told me he understood.

“It be like that sometimes,” he noted with a shrug. I wondered what he meant. Was he referring to the fact that humans care less about how they’re actions are affecting their lives than how they feel about those actions? That the peace of mind I’d receive from that shake was a higher priority to me than actual recovery and proper nutrition? Was he pointing to the idea that ignorance truly is bliss and that perception is more important than reality? Did it be like that? I don’t know. He was probably just filling in the blanks of our conversation.

I had to show my ID as we entered which made me consider growing a beard. I dismissed that thought as Vaughn followed behind, not bothering to show his.

“I need to get one of those,” he mentioned as we scanned the room for a place to sit. He showed me a card that didn’t resemble any license I’d ever seen before. I puzzled over it for a moment before asking him what he wanted to drink.

“Whatever you’re getting,” he told me, before changing his tune. “Henny on the rocks?”

I laughed. If he thought Henessy on the rocks was my drink of choice, he’d read me wrong. I got a Bud Light. And a Hennessy on the rocks. The bartender gave me a look similar to the one I’d just given Vaughn before pouring it fully. Vaughn and I cheersed our drinks and I watched intently as he sipped without so much as a wince. I was impressed. Meanwhile, my Bud Light complemented the protein shake aftertaste as poorly as socks and sandals in a non-ironic way. Ohio State’s comeback victory over Penn State on the TV in front of us consumed approximately fourteen seconds of conversation before I asked the question I’d been wondering all along.

“Do you make good money out there? Like, is it worth your time?”

Vaughn told me it was worth his time. His buddy recommended he do it since he was trying to get some money together while he crashed at the shelter. That allowed me to segue into some other topics I was curious about, and we started to speak in earnest. He was saving to get his tattoo machine fixed so he could start doing that for a living. Being a tattoo artist was a way to get some money to further pursue his acting and rapping dreams. He didn’t have any visible tattoos and I wanted to ask him if he lacked confidence in his art, but I asked him if he had an Instagram to promote his work instead. He said “yes.” He didn’t tell me how to find it, he just said “yes.” Maybe he didn’t think I was the tattoo type. I’m not, but I’m also not the “Henny on the rocks” type either. He was bold enough to ask for a tip after holding the door but didn’t want to pursue my business as a tattoo customer? Vaughn was an enigma. He told me he was going to move to Atlanta and that the music scene there was starting to grow. I told him about a guy I know in Atlanta just to sound relevant and then asked him if he thought the reason Atlanta-based artists were getting more recognition was because of Future’s popularity. I asked that question also to sound relevant/impress him, much like the annoying student in every class that essentially answers questions in the way she or he phrases them just to impress the teacher. Vaughn was my teacher. He asked me who I listened to instead of answering my question, probably because this time he was reading me accurately and realized how fake a question that was and why I’d asked it. I told him who I listened to and hoped I didn’t accidentally resume playing Guns n’ Roses from my phone. Vaughn spoke like I assumed a rapper would speak, punctuation his words with hand gestures (while holding a glass of Hennessy on the rocks). I hope he makes it, because he has a far more clearly defined path for his life than I do, and I know where I’m going to sleep every night. We finished our drinks and left the bar. After I said goodbye, we walked in the same direction for about fifteen seconds which was undoubtedly the worst part of the entire interaction. I walked back home listening to music that Vaughn would never approve of until I was stopped by a guy I’d never seen before who was absolutely positive he knew me. “We were locked up together, man!” he exclaimed, aggressively tapping my chest as only people who have been locked up would do. I pretended I remembered, because I’d rather have a stranger mistake me for an ex-con than go to jail for fighting one. Regardless, I should probably dress better when I go to the gym, but laundry is expensive. And so is Hennessy.

Hot takes:

1 pointless thing:

Cursive writing — Imagine having created English language. Such a complex format on which we’ve compiled massive documents dedicated entirely to defining each word, linking similar words and their definitions and origins, etc. We teach every child how to better themselves within this language in oral format as well as written and how to understand it better from both perspectives for thirteen years straight. And then someone comes up with this idea: “The same thing, but only it looks different and is harder.” That’s it. There’s no added benefit, we just do it because we can. I would’ve loved to have been a part of that meeting (I’m assuming it was presented at like America’s first Town Hall session or something; I didn’t do the research).

1 thing I like:

Having things out of reach. Doesn’t sound like something people would like, but I think it’s more common and just less acknowledged. Most things aren’t worth the hype (some undoubtedly are) but most aren’t. Just like the guy or girl who pursues their significant other so relentlessly and then loses interest once they’ve “gotten” them or the cliche rom-com character that finally gets the “big promotion” and realizes it isn’t all it’s cut out to be, I enjoy the process. There’s a growing narrative about how the “American Dream” is really just an endless cycle of education and career growth to save enough money to retire and then realizing your best years are behind you and slipping into senility. What about this — the dream is the chase. The dream is the mindset that you’re headed towards something better and you find daily satisfaction in the understanding that you’re headed towards your goals. It’s not the actual accomplishment, the peak, that’s so satisfying for more than a moment, it’s the constant improved mindset of someone knowing they’re on the right track. I think happiness is the pursuit of happiness and I think hamsters are happy on their treadmill (just as long as you don’t tell them it’s pointless). But I guess I just told you guys that, so perhaps ignorance really would’ve been bliss. Vaughn was right. It do be like that sometimes.