An Unremarkable Event in the Tenderloin

I just ran across a wretched, unfortunate looking man while walking through the Tenderloin. If you've spent any time here, you know this is nothing out of the ordinary. It made me sad.

I was walking home from my office and I stopped into a Subway on Mason street to get a sandwich.

This man was waiting in the shop for someone to give him food. He uttered something to me which I couldn't understand, but I could make out the word "sandwich." I said "no."

I say "no" about 10 times a day during my daily walk to the office, because it seems like the rational thing to say.

For some reason, I found this rather mundane interaction heart breaking. Maybe it was because he wanted food instead of money. Maybe it was because he stayed in the sandwich shop and so I wasn't able to put him out of my mind.

Maybe it was because we had something in common: we both wanted a sandwich. Except that I was actually going to get one. I can have as many sandwiches from Subway as I want.

I was so uncomfortable that I left the sandwich shop. I walked about half a block, and turned around and went back. I ordered myself a foot-long sandwich, and handed half of it to the man. He grabbed the sandwich, turned around and left the shop.

I don't know if that was the right thing to do, but I did it. Maybe I'm a sucker.

I've lived on the edge of the Tenderloin for 5 years. I see awful, terrible things here on regular basis. Mostly I tune it out. But sometimes it gets to me.

I have no point to make. I have no idea how to help the Tenderloin. Sometimes it just makes me sad.