Just four hours ago I was at the Philadelphia Convention Center listening to a speaker presenting on digital journalism. I met and reconnected with some great journalists, pitched my tour to a few of them and even got a back massage at the Target booth. Thank God for the massage therapist who quickly relieved the tension in my neck brought on by the twelve-hour ride to Philly on two buses.
Twenty four hours before I was sleeping on fluffy pillows at the Hilton Garden Inn located right in the heart of all the festivities centered around the NABJ Conference. Breakfast at the 10th Floor Grill was tasty but the pancakes sucked. Music and dining at the Hard Rock Cafe after my book signing and presentation at the Moonstone Arts Center made up for the terrible pancakes though.
After all the excitement of the past 24 hours, I was experiencing homelessness, again but this time, in an unknown city where I knew no one. I was dropped off at the Mega Bus stop on Penn Ave in Pittsburgh, PA, two hours after the scheduled arrival time and my connecting bus was long gone. The other gentleman and I who were headed to Detroit split up. I went directly to the Westin Hotel across the street to sit in the lobby and wait for the next bus coming in eight hours. During my travels and lunch meetings, I had spent thousands of dollars at the Westin Hotel so I thought it wouldn’t hurt to sit in the lobby for a few hours and wait for my next bus. Not quite sure where the other guys went.
As I rolled my luggage toward a nice comfortable looking chair in the plush hotel lobby the concierge asked “are you a guest of the hotel?” I continued to walk toward the chair that was calling my name and replied, not today, I’m just waiting for my bus. I smiled and continued to explain how the construction on the highway caused my bus to be delayed by two hours and that the next bus would arrive at 9:45am to take me home to Detroit. Before I could finish my story he replied, “you can’t wait here.” He explained that if I was not going to purchase a night’s stay for $279, I had to leave. It was almost 2am and I was tired and pissed that he would dare tell me where I could not sit. While thinking of the money I has spent with this hotel chain, I reluctantly reached inside my purse to retrieve my credit card and the porter walked over and suggested I wait across the street at the Greyhound Bus Terminal.
Sitting at the bus terminal for a few hours sounded like a better idea. Besides, I did not have $279 available on my credit card anyway. I caught the bus because my homeless awareness and sensitivity tour is my passion not my job. No one was paying me to advocate for the homeless and encourage college students to continue to fight for their education even if they were homeless. If it had not been for my virtual public relations friend Michelle and my massage client Titia who pre-paid for a few massages, I probably would have been at home dreaming about going to Philadelphia on tour.
Before rolling my luggage across to the bus terminal I sat outside the Westin on a bench in defiance. Don’t they know who I am? I thought. As watched the disabled veterans roll around the streets of Pittsburgh in their wheel chairs my mixed emotions brought me to tears. Sorry and self-pity began to rise up as I thought of being homeless seven years ago. Stop this! I shouted to myself. There is no time for this craziness right now. I wiped away my tears and began to think of the lessons I needed to take away from this experience. It became very clear that this experience would give me a fresh perspective on homeless awareness and sensitivity.
From a distance I could see the gentleman Jake Hipps, a disabled vet who I interviewed on the streets forty-eight hours earlier while I was waiting on the Greyhound Bus to take me to Philly from Pittsburgh. Jake told me about the National Wheelchair Games that were taking place at the Pittsburgh Convention Center. I quickly got up and headed to another hotel that may have been less expensive. Jake would not see me sitting there feeling gloomy. Needless to say, the next hotel wasn’t less expensive and they also told me that I could not wait in their lobby.
By the time I entered the bus terminal I was feeling much better. My many blessings had been counted and my situation wasn’t so bad any more. I got some grape juice from the shop inside the terminal and began to share my experience with my Facebook friends. If I ever need encouragement, my Facebook friends are there for me. Even in the wee hours of the morning I was feeling the virtual love.
About ninety minutes later, after most of the customers were on their perspective buses, the attendant began to sweep the terminal asking for tickets. She started with the gentleman who was asleep on the floor with his headset on. “Sir, sir” she called out over and over. I said, he can’t hear you, he has a headset on. she didn’t want to touch him, I could tell. I assumed she also didn’t want him to miss his bus. They had made the last call for the bus to New York a few minutes earlier.
After finally waking the guy up and checking his ticket, she continued her rounds. My heart began to beat faster as she made her way around the terminal and over to me. I looked in my purse and pulled out my ticket from Wednesday night hoping she would not look at the date or time. She said “this ticket is not for today mam.” I replied, oh, I purchased it on-line, the confirmation is on my phone. I wasn’t lying, my confirmation for the Mega Bus was on my phone so I began to scroll and as my hands began to shake, I stopped and just told her my story.
“That’s our competition” the Greyhound us attendant said. “You need to leave, you can’t wait here.” I asked if there was a coffee shop or 24-hr diner she could refer me to. She said that McDonalds was about six blocks up and down the street. I told her that I didn’t want to get turned around and miss my next bus. She simply pointed and said “you can exit the back door.” There I was, put out of the third establishment, but this time with a different state of mind.
It was 4am and while sitting on top of my luggage at the Mega Bus stop on Penn Ave. in Pittsburgh, PA, I resolved that my 10-city college tour was worth all the trouble and inconvenience I experienced the last eight hours. People across America must become more sensitive to the needs of one another. We must wake up from our desensitized daze which has many of us mindlessly dismissing other human beings trauma and misfortune. We must learn to love our neighbor as ourselves.
I know it’s not the easiest thing to do when we reach out to help one person and they bite our hand off. Believe me, every person that I help does not accept it with gratitude. Some actually steal from me or worse. What I have learned from those experiences is that “hurt people hurt” and to only give what I can do without. But to turn cold against all humanity when I have been so blessed by others would be absurd.
The moral of this story is: In a world where a woman alone on the streets of a strange city for hours could end up raped or killed, bend the rules, give her your empty chair to rest, you could be saving her life.
From Homeless Healer to Life Changer 