I was not a happy commuter last Friday night. For starters, I missed my train by a mere two minutes and every other train that was scheduled to leave at the same time was delayed by 5 minutes. But no, not mine. That line may very well have the timeliest trains in MBTA history. So I had to wait an hour and a half at North Station to catch the midnight train home…and then go right back to work again the next morning. Needless to say, I was not amused.
However, entertaining stories abound when you have to hang out in North Station long enough.
Until this particular evening, I had no idea there was such a thing as an Urban Missionary.
That is until one of them WOKE ME UP and started talking at me.
Anyone who knows me knows that I am not a morning person.
I am even less of a suddenly-startled-out-of-my-nap-which-I’m-taking-because-I-missed-my-train-and-
I’m-exhausted-and-I-wish-I-was-in-my-own-bed-and-not-at-a-train-station person.
And it makes me even more cranky when it’s an overly caffeinated man who does it when I’m in a corner with my headphones on and my hat almost entirely covering my face.
(Seriously, what do I have to do to send a clear “Please leave me alone” message?)
And I do realize it’s a little hypocritical of me to begrudge him his caffeination, but no one should be that perky that late at night. Hell, I drink coffee just to stay conscious, never mind alert!
Anyway, his reason for waking me up was to ask to borrow a pen.
Since I can only occasionally decipher my own handwriting, I don’t carry pens. Unfortunately, the fact I did not have one did not make him go away.
Instead, he sat down on the bench across from me and began to explain at warp speed that he was an urban missionary who works with and looks after the homeless people in the city of Boston and he was really very sorry to bother me but he really really just needed to borrow a pen for a moment.
This, of course, did nothing to change my state of pen-lessness, which I reiterated.
As he stood up, I thought he had gotten the message, but then things took an odd turn when he said:
“Do me a favor, will you?” (Am I the only one who dreads hearing those words from strangers?)
“Would you keep an eye on that man over there while I go find a pen? It’s terribly important that I get a pen. Great, thank you so much!”
Without stopping to wait for my answer, he turned and went in search of someone with a writing utensil.
…and left me sitting there with my mouth open wondering what the hell just happened and what exactly he meant by “keep an eye on that man.”
I am not an urban missionary. I have no clue what that homeless man was or was not supposed to be doing (at the time, he was drooling, rocking back and forth on a bench, and talking to himself). I was very disturbed by being woken up by a strange man, asked repeatedly for items I do not have, and then having this vague responsibility thrust upon me unexpectedly.
I was feeling rather groggy and therefore had absolutely no idea what to do. So I just sat there and stared down a homeless man for 5 minutes while the “missionary” chatted up a middle-aged woman a couple benches over.
For the record, he did far more talking than writing.
The man I was “keeping an eye on” did absolutely nothing, much to my relief.
On his way back to his charge, the missionary waved and said thanks and, aside from the ensuing vocal argument with the homeless man about who knows what, that was that.