Poor Choices 4
Poor Choices, with your host, Patrick Neville:
Today's Memory: Hanging out with a crack smoking bum
For this episode of “Poor Choices”, I was thinking back on some of the more risky things I've done. Sometimes I’m far too trusting of a person and it’s led me down some scary roads before, but luckily I’ve never been injured or taken too horribly advantage of. It was a warm spring day in Millcreek, I had been hanging out a home most of the day being bored, so I decided I would go find a place to get some coffee and play a little guitar. So I went to my old haunt, Greenhouse Coffee on 9th and 33rd, got a cup and sat down on the porch to pick a few. Back then other people with instruments would usually show up at some point and a jam would ensue, so I hung out for a while and finally this older rough looking dude shows up with a guitar. We started jamming a bit and we had a good musical connection going on. There was only one problem. Dude was missing his middle finger on his chord playing hand. It made his guitar playing really hard for him and I could see he was very frustrated with it. So we took a break for a smoke, we talked for a bit and he told me his name was "Rubber Jerry." He was an interesting fellow and seemed pretty sane, but in our conversations it was obvious to me he was broke and probably homeless. But then he invited me back to his “place” for a beer and I accepted. Hey, maybe I misjudged the guy. So I bought a 12 pack and we went to this house down in Sugar House. As soon as I pulled into the driveway I knew something was wrong. The house was either being foreclosed on, was condemned, or had been on the market for a long long time. I knew instantly that this was not his house, he was just squatting here. But I went in anyway. I was right, the place was empty, no power, no water, no AC, nothing. He had his little bum camp all set up in the front room in front of the boarded up front window. I was a bit nervous; this guy now had me in his lair and could have easily robbed, raped or killed me. But he didn't. Instead, he pulled out 4 big family picture albums he obviously carries around and then proceeded to tell me his life story. He was once a gymnast back in the 70’s and 80’s and could do amazing things, he had a wife, family, medals, and many friends just like anyone you know. This guy just wanted someone to listen to him. To show someone that he once had a life. That he mattered to someone and wasn’t always this way. He had also been an extremely accomplished guitar player and had played with many famous people, until one night he got in a knife fight and that’s how he lost the finger. He seemed extremely upset by the loss of the finger, it was like that person had cut off his entire life, all his confidence seemed to have gone with that finger. He never told me what really happened to him to land him in that position, but his frequent bathroom breaks started to make me wonder. So I took a bathroom break myself, I went in and the meth vibe hit me like a ton of bricks. He had been hiding it well until I went into the bathroom. It’s like an evil presence that you can feel, taste, and even smell. Now after every "bathroom" break he took, Jerry became more paranoid and surly. Then I saw it, the meth pipe he was trying to hide but was now too high to conceal. I can only guess that it was Meth that took everything from Jerry and landed him where he was. Then out of nowhere, Jerry got up and started yelling about how its people like me that put him where he was and started saying really crazy scary things, like talking about cutting my neck open and painting with my blood. Then he threatened to get “the others” and they were going to take me hostage after breaking every bone in my body. Then said he had murdered 3 people like me that were even bigger and stronger and that he wouldn’t hesitate to do it again. Yea, that was my cue to bail, I exited out the broken back door that we came in, jumped into my car and got the hell out of there. But it's amazing how someone can go from a perfectly normal talented person who everyone loves with everything going for them, into a poor ragged drug addled bum begging for change at the coffee shop who may or may not have actually murdered people. Stay off drugs, kids.
Today's Memory: Hanging out with a crack smoking bum
For this episode of “Poor Choices”, I was thinking back on some of the more risky things I've done. Sometimes I’m far too trusting of a person and it’s led me down some scary roads before, but luckily I’ve never been injured or taken too horribly advantage of. It was a warm spring day in Millcreek, I had been hanging out a home most of the day being bored, so I decided I would go find a place to get some coffee and play a little guitar. So I went to my old haunt, Greenhouse Coffee on 9th and 33rd, got a cup and sat down on the porch to pick a few. Back then other people with instruments would usually show up at some point and a jam would ensue, so I hung out for a while and finally this older rough looking dude shows up with a guitar. We started jamming a bit and we had a good musical connection going on. There was only one problem. Dude was missing his middle finger on his chord playing hand. It made his guitar playing really hard for him and I could see he was very frustrated with it. So we took a break for a smoke, we talked for a bit and he told me his name was "Rubber Jerry." He was an interesting fellow and seemed pretty sane, but in our conversations it was obvious to me he was broke and probably homeless. But then he invited me back to his “place” for a beer and I accepted. Hey, maybe I misjudged the guy. So I bought a 12 pack and we went to this house down in Sugar House. As soon as I pulled into the driveway I knew something was wrong. The house was either being foreclosed on, was condemned, or had been on the market for a long long time. I knew instantly that this was not his house, he was just squatting here. But I went in anyway. I was right, the place was empty, no power, no water, no AC, nothing. He had his little bum camp all set up in the front room in front of the boarded up front window. I was a bit nervous; this guy now had me in his lair and could have easily robbed, raped or killed me. But he didn't. Instead, he pulled out 4 big family picture albums he obviously carries around and then proceeded to tell me his life story. He was once a gymnast back in the 70’s and 80’s and could do amazing things, he had a wife, family, medals, and many friends just like anyone you know. This guy just wanted someone to listen to him. To show someone that he once had a life. That he mattered to someone and wasn’t always this way. He had also been an extremely accomplished guitar player and had played with many famous people, until one night he got in a knife fight and that’s how he lost the finger. He seemed extremely upset by the loss of the finger, it was like that person had cut off his entire life, all his confidence seemed to have gone with that finger. He never told me what really happened to him to land him in that position, but his frequent bathroom breaks started to make me wonder. So I took a bathroom break myself, I went in and the meth vibe hit me like a ton of bricks. He had been hiding it well until I went into the bathroom. It’s like an evil presence that you can feel, taste, and even smell. Now after every "bathroom" break he took, Jerry became more paranoid and surly. Then I saw it, the meth pipe he was trying to hide but was now too high to conceal. I can only guess that it was Meth that took everything from Jerry and landed him where he was. Then out of nowhere, Jerry got up and started yelling about how its people like me that put him where he was and started saying really crazy scary things, like talking about cutting my neck open and painting with my blood. Then he threatened to get “the others” and they were going to take me hostage after breaking every bone in my body. Then said he had murdered 3 people like me that were even bigger and stronger and that he wouldn’t hesitate to do it again. Yea, that was my cue to bail, I exited out the broken back door that we came in, jumped into my car and got the hell out of there. But it's amazing how someone can go from a perfectly normal talented person who everyone loves with everything going for them, into a poor ragged drug addled bum begging for change at the coffee shop who may or may not have actually murdered people. Stay off drugs, kids.