I Want to Snatch Your Enchiladas
Sarah and I are about halfway through our cheese enchiladas at the Mexican restaurant in Fountain Square when I hear someone tapping on the window next to our booth. I am immediately on guard and ready to pretend like I didn't hear it, just like I pretended I didn't hear "Girrrlll, somebody's been eatin' some cornbread" on the street in OTR last week.
I keep my gaze focused on Sarah as she talks. Her words slow almost infinitesimally until finally she gives in and looks at the tapper, and I have to give in, too. There, standing at the window is a man maybe in his early 40s, wearing a bright yellow windbreaker and holding the handlebars of a bike. He points at Sarah's food and then at himself, and then makes motions with his fingers like he's putting food in his mouth. Before we even can react, he shakes his head as if exasperated with us and leaves his bike to walk towards the restaurant entrance.
"Ah, fuck," I think I only said it in my head.
The man walks inside, past the other booths along the window and heads right to our table. He jumps right into it.
"I'm homeless, and I just would really love a good meal. I have just really been wanting some enchiladas. Those look like great enchiladas. Good for you."
"Um..."
In my head I'm thinking, "Am I supposed to give him an enchilada? Do I put it on a napkin?" I look around blindly at the table. That would be super messy.
"Once you guys are finished, if you have any leftovers, it'd be great if you'd just box them up and give them to a homeless person. I'm just really trying to get a good meal. Even if you just have extra chips."
"Sure, we can do that," says Sarah, in a voice that's surprisingly friendly. I think she's just trying to get him to go away.
"I just, I'm looking at those enchiladas and those just look really good. I'm just really wishing I could be like you two and afford a nice meal. I mean, I'd like to snatch those enchiladas right away from you." He looks at me. "You don't believe me, but..."
"I believe you," I say. I still don't really know what to do. How do I get him to leave? Do I give him my food? Is he going to snatch my enchiladas? "Um, I have a dollar..." I say.
He sighs as if disappointed. "Well, sure, that'd be nice. I'm just really tired of eating chips, you know?"
I scrounge around in my purse for a dollar as he keeps talking and hand it to him, and he finally walks away. Sarah and I sit in silence for a moment. Out of the corner of my eye I see him grab his bike and leave.
"Should I have given him my food? I'm not even hungry anymore – I could have given it to him."
"I'm not hungry anymore either. But that was fucking strange."
We laugh, a little shell-shocked. "These things always happen when I'm with you," she says. "How do you attract these people?"
"I don't know!" I pull on my now-black hair. "I thought it was maybe my red hair, but it's not even red any more."
"I'm not even sure he was homeless. That jacket looked pretty nice."
I feel uncomfortable, not sure what I should have done. Would a kind person have just given him her plate? Or was that guy just scamming us and should we have told him to leave? Is it ever okay to come into a restaurant and ask someone for their food? Is it my well-off white girl duty to give him something, or is it my well-off white girl guilt that makes him ask me in the first place? Why isn't he trying to get help somewhere where they help homeless people? What is he going to do with my dollar?
Sarah starts getting fired up. "I have never had that happen to me. I've never had someone walk inside and harass me at my table."
She pokes her enchilada. "I don't even want to finish anymore. You know what? I don't think he would have done that if we were two guys. In fact," she swings around to look behind her. "In fact, he ignored the two guys behind us that he had to pass to get to us."
"That's true. Did he think it'd be easier to make us feel guilty?"
"I think he just thought he could intimidate us." She crosses her arms and sits back. "That really fucking pisses me off."
We sit there for a few minutes more, neither of us wanting to finish our food. "Do you think he's out there waiting for us?" I ask.
"I don't know. Maybe? That's really not okay to try to intimidate people. Saying he wanted to take your enchiladas."
Eventually we leave, making our way to Sarah's car without catching sight of the man on the bike, but I feel uncomfortable all the way home, not sure if I'm uncomfortable because a stranger asked me for something in a fairly confrontational, intrusive manner or because I didn't give it to him, and I'm walking home with two cold enchiladas I might or might not eat tomorrow. Where do you draw the line between being a good person and being a sucker?
I keep my gaze focused on Sarah as she talks. Her words slow almost infinitesimally until finally she gives in and looks at the tapper, and I have to give in, too. There, standing at the window is a man maybe in his early 40s, wearing a bright yellow windbreaker and holding the handlebars of a bike. He points at Sarah's food and then at himself, and then makes motions with his fingers like he's putting food in his mouth. Before we even can react, he shakes his head as if exasperated with us and leaves his bike to walk towards the restaurant entrance.
"Ah, fuck," I think I only said it in my head.
The man walks inside, past the other booths along the window and heads right to our table. He jumps right into it.
"I'm homeless, and I just would really love a good meal. I have just really been wanting some enchiladas. Those look like great enchiladas. Good for you."
"Um..."
In my head I'm thinking, "Am I supposed to give him an enchilada? Do I put it on a napkin?" I look around blindly at the table. That would be super messy.
"Once you guys are finished, if you have any leftovers, it'd be great if you'd just box them up and give them to a homeless person. I'm just really trying to get a good meal. Even if you just have extra chips."
"Sure, we can do that," says Sarah, in a voice that's surprisingly friendly. I think she's just trying to get him to go away.
"I just, I'm looking at those enchiladas and those just look really good. I'm just really wishing I could be like you two and afford a nice meal. I mean, I'd like to snatch those enchiladas right away from you." He looks at me. "You don't believe me, but..."
"I believe you," I say. I still don't really know what to do. How do I get him to leave? Do I give him my food? Is he going to snatch my enchiladas? "Um, I have a dollar..." I say.
He sighs as if disappointed. "Well, sure, that'd be nice. I'm just really tired of eating chips, you know?"
I scrounge around in my purse for a dollar as he keeps talking and hand it to him, and he finally walks away. Sarah and I sit in silence for a moment. Out of the corner of my eye I see him grab his bike and leave.
"Should I have given him my food? I'm not even hungry anymore – I could have given it to him."
"I'm not hungry anymore either. But that was fucking strange."
We laugh, a little shell-shocked. "These things always happen when I'm with you," she says. "How do you attract these people?"
"I don't know!" I pull on my now-black hair. "I thought it was maybe my red hair, but it's not even red any more."
"I'm not even sure he was homeless. That jacket looked pretty nice."
I feel uncomfortable, not sure what I should have done. Would a kind person have just given him her plate? Or was that guy just scamming us and should we have told him to leave? Is it ever okay to come into a restaurant and ask someone for their food? Is it my well-off white girl duty to give him something, or is it my well-off white girl guilt that makes him ask me in the first place? Why isn't he trying to get help somewhere where they help homeless people? What is he going to do with my dollar?
Sarah starts getting fired up. "I have never had that happen to me. I've never had someone walk inside and harass me at my table."
She pokes her enchilada. "I don't even want to finish anymore. You know what? I don't think he would have done that if we were two guys. In fact," she swings around to look behind her. "In fact, he ignored the two guys behind us that he had to pass to get to us."
"That's true. Did he think it'd be easier to make us feel guilty?"
"I think he just thought he could intimidate us." She crosses her arms and sits back. "That really fucking pisses me off."
We sit there for a few minutes more, neither of us wanting to finish our food. "Do you think he's out there waiting for us?" I ask.
"I don't know. Maybe? That's really not okay to try to intimidate people. Saying he wanted to take your enchiladas."
Eventually we leave, making our way to Sarah's car without catching sight of the man on the bike, but I feel uncomfortable all the way home, not sure if I'm uncomfortable because a stranger asked me for something in a fairly confrontational, intrusive manner or because I didn't give it to him, and I'm walking home with two cold enchiladas I might or might not eat tomorrow. Where do you draw the line between being a good person and being a sucker?