I live in a house around the intersection of Flamingo and Decatur (Las Vegas), kind of near the Palms hotel.  It's not the worst neighborhood in the world, but it's certainly not the best, either.  A lot of bums reside in these whereabouts.  Not like crackheads crawling up the street lamps and getting stuck or anything, just a really interesting group of not-so-transient homeless people.  I don't really know any of them personally, but I have been living in the area long enough now that I've begun to recognize them all.  I started giving them names to help me keep track of everyone.  There's Heroin Cheech, Dirt McGirt, The Cargo Pant Jesus...but the most intruiging, and my own personal favorite is...Bus Stop Barney.

I first noticed Barney a little over a year ago.  Af first glance, just a grizzly fat man passed out at the bus stop...nothing special.  However, a few hours later, as I was driving past that same bus stop, I happened to look over and noticed that he was still there. I thought to myself, "Man, that guy has been passed out for like, 3 hours...he's not going be very happy when he wakes up and finds out he missed the bus."  I laughed to myself and got on with my day. 

Later that night,  as I was headed back home, I passed by that same bus stop once again and saw that he was STILL sitting there.  I figured, "Damn. Maybe this guy is dead or something...  I should probably honk my horn."

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP 

Nope...not dead.

The next day I woke up and start handling my business as usual. Barney didn't really cross my mind until I passed the bus stop later that day and, of course...  the fat fuck hadn't moved an inch.  From that moment on,  I've always made a point of checking on him.  Days have passed, weeks, months...and every time I drive by that bus stop, there's Barney, a 300 pound, slobbish and haggard-looking man, passed out face down in his own enormous gut.  He doesn't read, he doesn't talk to the people next to him, he doesn't even scoot his fat ass over for old ladies or kids.  Day and night.  Rain or shine.  He just sits there... all statuesque and shit.  I can practically guarantee you that if you drive by right now, he is just sitting there like he thinks he's some sort of bus stop Buddha.  

Over time, I have developed a strange connection with Barney.  Even though I've made no real contribution to his life, I sometimes feel as if I've adopted him in a way.  Ehhh...."adopt" probably isn't the right word; it's really more like I'm the President of his fan club.  I would give him money, except that every time I see him, I'm driving by at like 55 miles an hour.  It's definitely not an appropriate speed to be pelting homeless people with little chunks of metal.  Besides, I wouldn't want to wake him...he looks so adorable when he's napping.

This has been going on for over a year now, and still, every time I see him I can't help but wonder how he got like that.  For all I know, he could have been sitting there years before I even noticed him.  What series of events drives a man to spend his entire life sitting at a fucking bus stop? I know I've been joking about this, but the truth is, it's really not that funny.  My heart goes out to this poor guy.  It's very likely that he's both mentally and physically ill, and has no one, or nowhere to turn to.  I want to do something for him.  Maybe bring him a Gameboy or a book on yoga...and yet, after all this time, I still haven't done anything.  In consequence, I feel like a total bastard.  I know practically nothing about this man, and because of this,  I often take my imagination for a walk.

Sometimes I like to pretend that there's some sort of sickeningly romantic back story to it.  Like he used to be this super good-looking, successful guy, with a beautiful wife...wait.  What am I saying? 

Super good-looking, successful people don't ride the bus...duh. 

Ok, so then maybe he wasn't that good-looking after all, but he was still a catch to some broad, and he treated her like gold. Every day he walked her to and from the bus stop.  Every morning at 8:15, and every evening at 6:00. 

Then one evening, without warning, she wasn't on the bus.  No explanation.  Just gone.  So he waited, and waited some more... Weeks go by, months, a year...  To this day he doesn't even know how long it's been; to him, it only seems like a moment has passed.  Barney is completely paralyzed in time (except to waddle across the street to McDonald's six times a day, but hey,  nothing fills a void quite like a Big Mac).  He can't even see what he has become.  He sits patiently, always thinking that she's just right around the corner. Maybe she's on the 6:14....or the 6:27.  Maybe the 8:45.  And so on...   

Breaks your heart, right?  So there you go, girls,  You want that sick type of love you see in all those God-awful Julia Roberts movies?  Start cruising bus stops... 

As much as I want to see the good in Barney, there are also days where I just can't help but wonder whether he might be the fattest, laziest, most homeless guy ever.  He's practically an inanimate object.  I realize it's quite possible that he's just going through hard times and needs some direction in his life.  Regardless, some days, I just want to pull over, jump out, and yell,"Barney!!! Get up you lazy BITCH!!!  If you're waiting for Choo Choo the Magic Purple Bus, he's not fucking coming!  DEAL WITH IT!!!"

I don't know, after I get that out my system, I might try a little tact... 

"Choo's on a different route across town now...  in Summerlin.  He says he misses you.  Why don't you go jog your fat ass out there and end all this nonsense."

And he'll take off into the sunset... 

Now, I know some of you are probably saying: "But Chad, if he's the fattest, laziest, most homeless guy ever, why's he going to run all the way across town like that?"  I'll tell ya why...  

...because the dude is nuttier than squirrel shit.  If he's crazy enough to spend the last two years of his life napping ten feet away from a major intersection, I'm betting he's "looney tunes" enough to hoof it a few miles across town.  The best part is, I bet you it never even crosses his mind to TAKE THE FUCKING BUS!!! 

Owwww...the irony is so sweet, it's making my teeth hurt. 

The truth is, I'm not sure if I'll ever know his story, but however it goes, I just want things to turn around for Barney.

Which brings me to the newest edition to the neighborhood: the Fanny Pack Hooker.  I see this woman turning tricks at least twice a week, and what a delight it is every time.  She's a cross between some Italian tomboy and one of those "Help me! I'm stuck in the 80's!" butt-rocker chicks.   She's always sporting her homemade cut up jean shorts, a pair of cheap sunglasses, and some headphones with one earmuff on.  Quite the dish really, but the cherry on top: a hot pink fanny pack, probably jam-packed with crack pipes and condoms.

Every time I see her she's standing tip-toed on the curb, chewing her gum like a piece of cud and sticking her head out literally inches away from oncoming traffic, as if looking for the bus is going to make it come any faster.  In truth, she's probably just looking for a mark.  That's why I always like to take that right turn there just a little bit slower than usual, about 60 percent...you know, just to tease her a bit.  She's on the same intersection as Barney, but in a perpendicular direction, meaning their bus stops are not in plain view of each other.

So the other day, I got this totally bitchin' idea.  I don't know why it didn't strike me sooner.  I should introduce them to each other...maybe they'll hit it off.   She could be his Bus Stop Betty.  Time will go on, and she'll start spending the night at his bus stop.  They can skip that whole toothbrush stage, since neither of them use one.  Eventually they'll get a dog, then get married and have 2.5 kids. They'll buy them little fanny packs!  Shit....slap a white picket fence up and it's the God Damn American Dream. 

Plus, just in case you guys forgot, the bus comes directly to his doorstep.  How cool is that?  Curbside service, baby.  It's just like having a private chauffer, except the drivers come in 10 minute shifts, there are total strangers in your limo, and everything smells like urine. 

Now suddenly he's a man about town.  Maybe he'll move to a newer bus stop on the west side, or possibly a down payment on a shopping cart...nothing fancy, just something reliable for the wife and kids.  He's been starting to fine dine at Denny's lately, taking in a bit of the nightlife.  It won't be long before I'll be setting him up with bottle service at the club. Get him a prime booth @ TAO just so that he can sit there, all weird and shit.  Just like he did back in the day...

when he was young, and crazy. 

(Sigh)


Things have come to the point where I feel like I must intervene.  Maybe I'll go sit down next to him and pretend I'm waiting for the bus...try to spark up a conversation.  Who knows?  This guy could be a bonafide genius, and the only problem is that nobody can stimulate him enough.  He could become my mentor.  I could write a book about it.  I'll call it "Tuesdays with Barney."  It'll make millions.  Change our lives.  Then I'll go on Oprah and promote it.  Jump all over the couches like a total douche bag.  Barney and his "Life is like a bus stop" philosophy could be an inspiration to fat lazy housewives everywhere!!!     

Next it's Sally Jesse.  Then Larry King.  Good Morning America.  After that we'll hit the younger, hip market.  He'll do a spot on Cribs to show off his new Bus Stop Mansion in the Hollywood Hills.  It sits 45 people, has a wet bar, fireplace, a butler, crystal chandeliers, even an olympic-sized swimming pool in the back.  The excess doesn't stop there.  Private Busses.  Personal trainers.  Gucci fanny packs for the Missus.  The other day he even took something called a "shower."  

But fame and money can often saddle you with discontent. The fans and paparazzi have begun to make him paranoid.  US Weekly starts to speculate that he's having an affair with Charlize Theron when they are spotted at a trendy downtown bus stop together. His relationship with the Fanny Pack Hooker starts to crumble.  She becomes cold and greedy, wants more than her fanny pack will fit.  The media eats it up.  All the vanity and materialism starts to catch up with him. One day he looks in the mirror at the reflection of a thin, clean shaven, freshly scrubbed man, and he can't even recognize himself anymore. That's when the cocaine comes in... 

Now he's too wired to sit down--he finds mobility awkward and tiring.  The drug keeps him from doing the very thing he loves most...but he's addicted.  His behavior becomes erratic.  Rumors fly.  Choo Choo the Magic Purple Bus does a tell-all Barbara Walters interview bashing Barney.  Some kid in Minnesota freezes to death at a bus stop trying to emulate him.  Another kid gets killed when a drunk driver loses control, hops the curb, and plows into him.  The media labels it as an epidemic, and hysteria ensues.  The mothers of America say that Barney is to blame and the lawsuits start to fly. 

His wife packs up her fanny pack and leaves him, taking the kids and half his assets.  He has to sell the bus stop to the Cargo Pants Jesus; what's left barely pays for his legal bills.  The trials are long and arduous, and when it's all over with he is bankrupt and yesterday's news.  All of his property is auctioned off, and he is left homeless and alone.  He finds his way to the nearest public bus stop and slumps down.  He lays there perfectly still...

and he's never been happier.



Update:  As of the time of this post (March 1st, 2007) Barney is missing.  He has been gone for well over a few months now.  I have no idea where he is or whether he is even alive or dead.  I am hoping that he just chose to relocate.  In the back of our minds, we all know how fragile life is, but it's always shocking when you wake up one day and find something that's ALWAYS been there is suddenly gone.  It's funny...everywhere I go, I instinctively check out bus stops in hopes of seeing the fat bastard, but I never do.  Whether he's across town, or up in that big bus stop in the sky, I just hope he is doing well.  I guess what I'm trying to say is...

Don't take your local bums for granted.