While I was eating my Chipotle tacos on the outdoor patio, I kept watching these homeless runaway teens beg for spare change and leftovers. For 30 minutes I watched dozens of pedestrians shake their heads, "sorry, no money." 5 high end boutiques were packed on that block, and not a single person had a quarter to spare in upper-middle class downtown Davis? What a lie, but I can't blame them, I was the same way.

When I first applied to volunteer at the Willow Homeless Clinic in downtown Sac, I just wanted clinical experience. I didn't really care about the homeless. Actually, I thought they were disgusting and got annoyed whenever my great uncle stopped to give them $20 bills. Now, I interact with the homeless every other weekend, giving them free health screenings, food, and listening to their life stories. Some are really fucked up. Some are really crazy (with hallucinations and all). But they all have one thing in common - they've reached rock bottom. And I have nothing to complain about when 4 different patients in a day come in telling me about their suicidal tendacies, dead mother, dead children, abusive husband, 3 heart attacks, 2 strokes, and janitorial job at some fast food joint. Yes, they might beg occasionally, but they got it rough, no need to make it rougher.

So I jumped the patio fence and handed them my extra barbacoa tacos and my drink. I think they were weirded out at first (me, a young asian lady in pumps and business suit). But they were really grateful and that just made my day.