Batsy
Well-known member
I’ve heard the sentiment that living on the road attracts the wildest experiences. I agree wholehearted. But I would add that living this lifestyle also attracts the wildest people. Because when you’re a vagabond and people who are living on the fringes spot you in public, they can often recognize that you’re living in the same fringe world as them, and will start interacting with you.
This is a story of one of the many interesting characters I’ve encountered during my time on the road:
Within my first few weeks as a nomad, I got a vending spot at an event called LA Crust Fest. On the first day of the event, I set up a table in an alleyway outside of the venue and sold my art for 10 hours. The second day of the event, I returned to the same alleyway and began waiting for the organizers, venue owners, and bands to show up. I was the first one there.
After waiting for quite a while, I got out of my van and began pacing. At this moment, a man who came out of nowhere rode right up to me on a bicycle and stopped a few feet in front of me. He had a lit cigarette in his hand and many tattoos all over his face.
The man said, “My name is Killer. I’m informing you that I’m going to be suing you.”
Really confused, I asked, “Why???”
“Because you beat me up,” he replied, “I want you to know that I didn’t go to the cops, but I am going to sue you.”
Even more confused I questioned him further, “When? Where?”
“Right here in this alleyway.”
I had never seen this man before and didn’t recognize him at all. “When was this? Was this last night?”
“No, this was a year ago.”
“I wasn’t in this alleyway a year ago.”
He continued to insist that me and my “black friends” had beaten him up, and that he would sue me for this. When his cigarette burnt out, he tossed it at me and it bounced off my shirt. I ignored this attempt at provoking me, and explained that I was new to LA and didn’t have any black friends there yet. He continued to insist.
“Look, man,” I said, “I’m really not trying to be difficult, but I didn’t beat you up. You have me confused for the wrong guy.”
“Fine, I won’t sue you,” he said. It felt like he was just tired of bickering and still didn’t believe me, “Bye.”
“Bye,” I replied.
This is a story of one of the many interesting characters I’ve encountered during my time on the road:
Within my first few weeks as a nomad, I got a vending spot at an event called LA Crust Fest. On the first day of the event, I set up a table in an alleyway outside of the venue and sold my art for 10 hours. The second day of the event, I returned to the same alleyway and began waiting for the organizers, venue owners, and bands to show up. I was the first one there.
After waiting for quite a while, I got out of my van and began pacing. At this moment, a man who came out of nowhere rode right up to me on a bicycle and stopped a few feet in front of me. He had a lit cigarette in his hand and many tattoos all over his face.
The man said, “My name is Killer. I’m informing you that I’m going to be suing you.”
Really confused, I asked, “Why???”
“Because you beat me up,” he replied, “I want you to know that I didn’t go to the cops, but I am going to sue you.”
Even more confused I questioned him further, “When? Where?”
“Right here in this alleyway.”
I had never seen this man before and didn’t recognize him at all. “When was this? Was this last night?”
“No, this was a year ago.”
“I wasn’t in this alleyway a year ago.”
He continued to insist that me and my “black friends” had beaten him up, and that he would sue me for this. When his cigarette burnt out, he tossed it at me and it bounced off my shirt. I ignored this attempt at provoking me, and explained that I was new to LA and didn’t have any black friends there yet. He continued to insist.
“Look, man,” I said, “I’m really not trying to be difficult, but I didn’t beat you up. You have me confused for the wrong guy.”
“Fine, I won’t sue you,” he said. It felt like he was just tired of bickering and still didn’t believe me, “Bye.”
“Bye,” I replied.
