Me and Paul

There’s an old Willie Nelson song, “Me and Paul,” about all the places he has been thrown out of.

When I moved to Lexington in 95, I lived in a dump on a rough side of town. I used to walk around the area quite a bit. Late one snowy evening, I walked into a fast food joint, unaware it was about to close. In those days I had a ZZTop beard and wore an very nice but very old London Fog overcoat. That’s an important detail. When I realized they were about to close I guess I looked bummed out and the manager gave me a few burgers. He would not let me pay. I realized as I was walking away, he thought I was homeless. But there I was, snow on my coat, frozen beard.

Fast forward 28 years to today. I go to that same fast food joint to meet a guy for Scripture study and prayer. A homeless dude comes in and sits in a table near me. I heard him ask someone for a buck. I asked him if he wanted anything to eat, and he did. I said “let’s wait til my bud gets here and then I will get us something.” His name is Terry. He is from Murray, KY.

Before my friend shows up, a worker came into the area we were in and looks at us, I can’t quite explain the look. Disdain? Aggravation? She went off and found the manager. He came in and nicely explained there was no loitering and a 30-minute time limit. I responded, “is it ok if I wait for my friend to get here for Bible study? And when he does, I am going to grab this guy a bite to eat. Can he wait til then?” He was very nice and said yes.

Is it quite irony to be mistaken for a homeless guy at the same restaurant 28 years apart?

Anyhoo, my bud and I were wrapping up, praying. I mean, we are heads down, eyes closed, praying out loud. I feel a tap on my shoulder. The worker from before, who called the manager, points to the table Terry was sitting at. He left some napkins and the biscuit wrapper on the table. She looks at me, her shoulders shrugged, flat hands pointing to the table. I don’t know if she meant look what you did, or he left a mess, or what I was supposed to do or think.

My bud says that we can find a different place. But I am not so sure. Maybe we start a prayer group for homeless dudes? Maybe we get a chance to witness to the worker at the restaurant?