48: An Experiential Memoir on Homelessness by Dr. Sheldon A. Jacobs

Author:Dr. Sheldon A. Jacobs [Jacobs, Sheldon A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Biography & Autobiography, Personal Memoirs, Religion, Inspirational, Social Science, sociology, General
ISBN: 9781480896253
Google: UrsLEAAAQBAJ
Publisher: Archway Publishing
Published: 2020-11-05T23:51:23.108747+00:00

SIX

Day One

At 7:35 a.m., I started my slow trek to Mcdonald’s, which was less than a quarter of a mile away. I was starting to feel weak. My lips were crusting and on the verge of cracking. My mouth was extremely dry, and my legs felt heavy. All the walking I did during the night—coupled with the prolonged periods of sitting on the hard concrete—made my thirty-nine-year-old body ache, and I had worked up quite an appetite.

As I approached the entrance of the hotel, there was surprisingly a lot of action going on. Several families were waiting for a shuttle to a tourist destination, and the men were carrying expensive cameras around their necks.

“I can’t believe how hot it is out here already! We are going to cook out here!” one of the men said to his wife.

She just looked at him without saying anything.

One of their preadolescent sons ran over from the bench and said, “Dad, look! Is that where we are going?” He pointed to a billboard on the back of a pickup truck. It was a helicopter flying over the Grand Canyon.

“We are heading to the airport now to catch the helicopter,” the mother said.

“I can’t wait. Where’s the Uber?” the kid said.

It must be nice, I thought as I continued walking to the entrance. Several bellmen passed by me without making eye contact. Usually when I walked into these hotels, they were quick to offer a smile or a “Can I help you with anything?” to get my business. I must truly look the part since they’re not even acknowledging my existence. The doors opened automatically and effortlessly, and I entered the casino. I was surrounded by rows and rows of slot machines. Straight ahead was the lobby, and to my right—down a carpeted hallway—was the food court. I immediately saw the famous golden arches and headed in their direction.

“Sir, can I help you with something?” a stern voice asked from behind me.

Feeling irritated, I turned around and saw a younger Black man in a uniform. “No, I am fine. Thanks. Just trying to get a bite to eat.”

“Are you a guest of our hotel, sir?”

“No, but I am a member of the public—and I see this is a public space, so excuse me.” I was pissed. He had some nerve to approach me. All I was doing was minding my own business.

“Enjoy, sir.” He stared at me before turning around and walking in the other direction.

I guess he thought I was going to just walk out of the casino after confronting me. He had made it known that I wasn’t wanted there. That feeling immediately took me back to my childhood. Growing up, I was made to feel inferior by several of my White peers because of the color of my skin. I hoped I would never have to experience those feelings again because the pain ran deep. The pain was so intense that I started to hate myself. I didn’t want to allow myself to go there, but I couldn’t help it.

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