I was heading home early one day in Manhattan and decided to grab a hot dog from a corner vendor (yep survival food at it's finest) just outside of Penn Station. On the way into the station, a bum sitting by the door spotted me and shouts 'Buy me a hot dog", like he's barking an order at me, with this repugnant glare in his eyes. I walked right past him, taking another bite, saying nothing, but returning his glare.

Another time the wife is driving the family into town, when this wierdo steps out in front of my car waving his arms. I pull the pistol out and put it under my leg while we come to an abrupt stop (I couldn't convince the wife to go around). She rolls down the window and the guy says "You need to give me a ride into town". To which I respond, "Uh, I don't think our dog here is going to let you into the car". The Elkhound/Shepard cross was doing her semi-rabid routine jumping between the back seat and the center console while going off, and I guess the wierdo conceded to discretion. I called the cops on my portable radio as we left.

The only time I will drop coin for a panhandler or beggar is if I have too much change in my pocket and wish to alleviate the load without just tossing it on the ground. You can imagine how often that happens.

Now while in Baghdad, it was routine to give up at least $200 a week in Baksheesh. I preferred giving it to the kids, though I knew their family would take it all for the common good anyways. Sometimes it was a lot of effort to put the money in their hands and get them to accept it. A lot of times they wouldn't unless they knew you well, and you were sincere about it. That felt good, and worthy. I do miss my Iraqi friends something fierce.