Sleeping out

Several months ago I met a man who'd been homeless for more than 10 years. He was so generous in answering my nosy questions about life on the street.

Then he said,"Even if it's just for a day, I wish everyone would put down their keys and their wallet and walk out their door and try being homeless. I really think people would look at us differently if they knew how hard it is to survive on the street."

His suggestion made my heart race, and I told him the mere thought of it scared me to death. That's when he offered to be my guide - show me the ropes, so to speak - if I would give it a go. I promised to think about it.

And that's how I ended up sleeping in a park downtown on Friday night. A group of advocates - some of them homeless - were staging a "Solidarity Sleep-Out" to call for more funding for emergency shelters. The previous night, two emergency winter shelters had closed for the summer, turning hundreds of people back onto the street with nowhere to turn but the park or the viaduct. My formerly-homeless friend called to remind me of his invitation and I figured a staged sleep-out would be a pretty safe way to make good.

There were at least a hundred of us, but I really couldn't tell you how many were homeless and how many were just curious, like me. I mistook one man for a banker on his way home from work. He was wearing black slacks and a well-pressed blue oxford. Turns out he'd just arrived in town to look for work, but he had no money and nowhere to stay.

He thought I was in the same predicament, wandering around in my jeans and ball cap with a dazed expression and a sleeping bag crammed in my backpack. I felt like scum admitting to him that I actually had a great job, my own condo and was only sleeping out because I thought it would be fun.

Everything he owned was folded carefully in a plastic bag. And he was so cheerful.

There was a young woman in her 20s with a one-year old baby asleep in a stroller, but most were men of all races and ages. It was a pretty festive atmosphere - probably because the weather was nice and we had a permit to be in the park so they knew they weren't going to get chased out by the cops.

The hooting and hollerin' and laughing and goofing off didn't die down until after 2 a.m. Nobody called out for quiet. Certainly not me, since I could just pack up and go home if I wanted sleep that badly.

Besides, I'd already made a scene when people were bedding down on their blankets and cardboard and I pulled out my one-man tent.

Lame, I know.

A couple of other people had tents, too, and it was supposed to rain. I paid for my comfort with pure shame as people eyed me enviously. They admired my rain fly, offered to help and wondered out loud what a tent like that might sell for. Could I get one at Wal-Mart?

I didn't have the heart to tell them it ran several hundred dollars at REI and was a birthday present from a loving and supportive family.

As soon as the poles were secure I crawled in and didn't show my red face again until morning.

It didn't rain even a single drop, but look what was waiting for us.


I've never seen so many people so chipper at 5:30 a.m. We had permission to sleep in the park, but habits die hard and the homeless know they have to beat the sun if they want to avoid getting nabbed for trespassing.

I never knew that being homeless meant getting hardly any sleep. You always see those guys curled up on the curb in big cities forcing people to step over them in broad daylight. Now I know they're just stealing whatever shut-eye they can before they get chased off.

There were donuts for breakfast from the Salvation Army, but I was still feeling ashamed about the tent thing and wasn't about to get in line for free food with 20 bucks in my pocket.

One by one they took off in search of a place to spend the day. I got in my car and drove home for a shower and a nap feeling very, very grateful.