There were five homeless people in the park. After considering how much I wouldn’t actually mind if someone stole my bike, I chained it to a street sign and made my way toward a gentleman who was sitting at a picnic table with his gear. Judging from his wrinkled, mocha-colored skin, I figured this man had been spending his days outside for a long, long time. He was Asian, from China or Taiwan by my guess, and his clothing was the color of sun bleached dirt.

“Aloha!” I greeted him. “I’m a writer, and I’m going around Honolulu meeting interesting people. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?”

The man’s response revealed a mouth empty of teeth, “I don’t want to talk to you.”

Ohhhhh Kaaay, I thought, proceeding to the next bum in the park.

“I’m ok,” the second man, a little less tan, with a few more teeth, croaked.

“You’re ok to talk to me? Or you’re ok and don’t want to talk to me?”

“No, I’m ok.” The man turned away.

Turns out, nobody in the park was very thrilled to talk to me. I guess Bum Park is where the angry, antisocial bums hang out. So, for The Bum Anthology this week, I have been officially:

Next week I think I will try the Ala Moana Beach Park. The bums there always seem to be having a good time.

(real picture of bums at Ala Moana)

Happily, though, when I rode by Thomas Square on my way home, James the Bum (from last week) waved hi to me.

It looked like he was almost done with his book.

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