Bill Mavis — man on fire

sammy elmi
Aug 9, 2017 · 4 min read

A true story


Simplicity. I’ve always favored it. Mostly, out of necessity, less by choice. Natural choice.

4th and King CalTrain Station. 5:37 p.m. Prime time hustle bustle for the drudge walk homeward, with an impenetrable train to master before you get there.

Then here comes Billy Mavis.

Lightening the place up. Mostly going to Cubs fans hanging out for the Giants game at 7:00pm.

“My Cub fan!” He would he say, in such a way that you felt time had passed between them. Time traveling by backpack in upward mountains in the Himalayas, where they barely made it out but for the extra tourniquet they packed after one of them fell badly enough to need a tourniquet.

But no. This was Billy Mavis bringing the magic to strangers. Bringing the Love. And the cubs fans would just warm up, too.

Billy made friends with every breath, I swear he did.

There I am, sitting on a bench in the square outside, waiting on that 6:15 bullet train.

Billy scoots up on the bench.

“How you doing good looking man?” He says.

“I’m good, how you doing?”

“Oh, man. It’s a beautiful day it is. I took a shower today, you would not believe. Wiped my ass, you know what I’m sayin? I’m homeless. I am. This was at a friend’s house.” He laughed. “Boy it was great!”

He smelled like Irish Spring and Tide, he did. Toothpaste too.

Billy Davis was on fire. He had long shorts, thick glasses that dropped down his nose, and a green T-shirt and a bag full of the newspaper beat he’s on, and tortilla chips with a sticker for $7.99 and a barcode, and an empty plastic container of guacamole, which still had a few scoops in it.

He knew I knew about the homeless drag in SF. Showed his plastic badge with his picture holding a big smile, and the words “Billy Mavis” underneath.

“What times your train?” He asks causal like.

“I got it at 6:15.”

“What times is it now then?”

Necessitating a revealing action on my part. I played along, looking at my phone.

“5:46"

“Can you buy me some chicken?” He said, with total ease and confidence and pride and respect. It was beautifully put. Simple. Effective.

“Right now?”

“Yeah, we can go to the store right there.”

“Let’s go.” I says, pretty casually I thought. I worked out the time and cost. I was looking at a rotisserie chicken for $9.99 in less than 10 minutes, and it was my pleasure to give and do something, especially in the midst of all that is 2017 San Francisco in commute/work mode.

“I’m thinking that rotesserie chicken, yeah?”, I asked because I wanted to get this expedition focused so I could make that bullet in plenty of time.

“Oh yeah, that sounds like it.” He says. We walk over and across the street. Pick out some tenders because the rotisserie werent close. The lady who dispenses the tenders was somewhat hesitant at the mere cite of Billy Mavis, I felt. Or of concern that Billy was pulling a fast one on someone. She helped us out with a sense of assurance that seemed necessary, and gave over a good pound of tenders. Me and Billy waited in the self-checkout line.

Billy is non stop with genuine appreciation and tells about his shower and the beauty of the day.

Says people in his camp really love it when he brings food back. How appreciative he is. Irish Spring. Not gonna lie, had a little drink he says. Not gonna lie, I had a beer too, I says.

“Simplicity” he says. “You know man, that’s what I’m doing. Just doing one thing at time. Gonna get some chicken right now, and I sell these newspapers. I just keep it simple. Took a shower today, boy!”

And I knew what he meant. I didn’t need to evaluate or opine. I didn’t need to know about his story, how he got homeless, what his “plans” are. Intellectual stuff. Billy didn’t seem to mind that I didn’t care about the story, just getting that chicken and making a friend without immediate backstory.

I checked out, grabbed a tender for myself, and Billy was off ahead talking to a couple who just walked in, Cubs fans, giving them the Love, and they were smiling and engaged. I walked over, gave them a smile, and gave Billy the bag of tenders.

“Hey man. I love you. I love you my man” he shouted out. It was his tag line. “I’ll see you around then.” I said, And I went through the rotating door out of Safeway, and back to the station.

6:15 bullet. Caught. Billy Mavis, friend made.

#BillyMavis

#sfstories

#whileimhere

    sammy elmi

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