The sewing circle of homeless town.

"I don't know what's worse by number in America, the vacant houses standing, or the homeless people falling into them."

~ Anthony Liccione

I like referring to my homeless brethren as 'urban outdoors men.' It has a certain ring to it. Anyways, I decided to make a trek to my old stomping grounds yesterday. Thanksgiving had proved bountiful for me and I felt the need to share the leftovers with my 'urban outdoors men' friends.

Most homeless people are what I refer to as hyper local. Meaning they usually pick a certain area and never leave its confines - Think of it as a comfort zone kind of thing - I had the bus drop me off in front of an abandoned building that I knew to be frequented by street urchins. Surely I could find some of the brethren there. "Don't shoot, it's just a homeless guy." Before I made my entrance into the building, I blurted out the unofficial code words of the street. Trust me, it's a terrible idea to walk into a homeless encampment unannounced. After my greeting, I heard a familiar voice. "Dr. Seuss is that you?" The west Texas twang was unmistakable, "Indeed it is me Boatie, I brought some leftover Thanksgiving grub for you." Boatie originally hails from Midland, Texas. If he's not in jail, he's on the streets. I liken him to a modern day Texas outlaw. "What are you waiting for? Come on in," he replied.

I open the door, walk in, take a look around and then follow the light to the backroom. When I turned the corner I could have sworn that I was walking into a homeless summit. "Dr. Seuss, what the hell have you been doing?" Boatie wasn't alone, my friend Ajax was there as well. He got his nickname because he always carries a bottle of cleaner with him. He is undoubtedly the most anal retentive homeless guy in Las Vegas. "Hi fellas, how are things going? I brought you guys some scraps from Thanksgiving." I then opened up my bag and took out the Tupperware and paper plates. I had forgotten to bring silverware, but it turned out not being a problem. Most professional urban outdoors men carry their own. "Here, grab a seat." Another one of my street urchin friends, Yankee, had just wheeled a chair up for me to sit in. His moniker is based on the old crusted Yankees ball cap he always has covering his mop of unkempt hair.

We divvied up the food and everyone ate until their heart's content. After the feast was over it was time to play 'Gossip Girl' on all the latest happenings on Vagabond Lane. "Did you hear about Stinky?" Boatie replied. Stinky is another urban outdoors man whose claim to fame is that he once bedded Pamela Anderson. Of course, no one believes him. Anyways, I replied, "No, what's the deal with Stinky?" Boatie then looked at me and said. "You're really going to enjoy this story. Stinky is shacking-up with a girl in North town. I saw him the other day and he looks like a changed man. We can't call him Stinky anymore. He was wearing a suit and tie and driving his new ladies car." What's the best way to describe a character like Stinky? To me, he looks, acts and smells exactly how Hollywood would portray a bum. You could literally tag him for homeless from a mile away. So when they told me he had a girlfriend who was taking care of him, well, it brought a quick smile to my face.

After catching up on all the latest street gossip, I decided to call it a night and head back to my apartment. As I'm riding the bus home, a thought came over me - There is a certain camaraderie that many street urchins share - It stems from the notion that society has forgotten about them. Most only have each other to lean on. I feel it is best described as a kinship, which can be difficult to find nowadays.