I’m done. I’ve lived here so long it’s like a co-dependent relationship. It’s like dating the guy in a band who always asks you to pay for dinner and then hits on your friend but you stay with him because he’s so edgy that you think dating him gives you street cred. I broke up with that guy long ago and now I need to leave his geographical equivalent behind.
My co-worker and I were talking about life in Atlanta and she said, “I’m just too old to want to be cool enough to live in the city.” Tania is in her mid forties. Not old by any means, I don’t think fifty-two is old either but I feel too old to live in the city. I’m done.
During my life in Atlanta, I saw a man jack-off against the passenger side of a Mercedes. I honked my horn and drove past him. Every morning, I wove my way around needles littering the parking lot outside of Starbuck’s. I held my breath against the stench of piss in the MARTA elevator when I took the train to the airport. I was twenty-four hours away from being murdered by a serial killer- he killed my friend the next day. None of this made me lose my faith in humanity or my love for Atlanta. But now I’m done because I fear if I stay, I will become as cold, ruthless and uncaring as this city.
I work in a high-end hair salon, our clients are surgeons, executives, politicians, celebrities and other people who pay a hundred dollars and up for a haircut. Our salon has beautiful, floor to ceiling windows that give a panoramic view of a well traveled, tree-lined avenue. Directly across the street from us is a “dental spa”, I’m not sure what that means but it sounds expensive and maybe involves hot towels while they drill in your mouth. The dentist office has a covered entryway with large, clay pots filled with purple and yellow pansies flanking the door. A man sleeps in the doorway wrapped in a blanket when the office is closed.
At eight a.m. I was working on my first client of the day, she was facing the mirror staring at her phone and I was turned to the window. I watched as the man who slept in front of the dentist office stood up, stretched his back (it must’ve hurt from sleeping on concrete), walked over to a parking space and dropped his pants. He bent slightly at the waist and took a shit in front of a woman pushing a carriage, a jogger, an Amazon driver and me.
I looked to see if my client noticed the scene across the street but she was engrossed in her phone. I’m actually glad she was oblivious because nothing says classy like watching a man take a dump on the street while you’re getting your hair done.
After my client left, I told one of my co-workers what I saw and how disturbing I found it. They laughed at my reaction and said they’d seen him do that a couple times before. Other co-workers just shrugged and said it’s part of living in the city.
Watching a man live on the streets, devoid of privacy, unseen by people passing within a few feet of him is not part of living in the city. No human should have to live unsheltered. And I do not want to become so jaded and callous that my heart doesn’t break every time I see a tent under the highway, a person sleeping on the sidewalk or begging for change at the gas station. Yet these scenes have become so prevalent, it’s hard to avoid becoming numb to the sadness and destitution in Atlanta.
My manager told me that the man across the street has been homeless for decades. She has seen him around town her whole life and knew his name. She said he recently secured housing and social security benefits. He’s gone now and I hope he has someone helping him with mental and physical health issues. I hope he has someone who cares about him. Another man has taken his place in front of the dental spa.
If you’re reading this and thinking why don’t you help? I volunteer with Atlanta Legal Aid Society and bring supplies to families living in extended stay hotels. It feels like bailing out the ocean with a leaky saucer. There’s something wrong with this city and I’m done. We’re breaking up because I just don’t want to be that cool.
