Signs Of A Troubled Soul

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They look at me funny.  They're all the same. 

He pulled the brown paper bag out of the recesses of his bulky worn and dirty parka and took a quick, deep swig, glancing left and right to make sure there were no cops in sight.  He didn't want, or need a trip to the tank.

They pretend they don't even see me, heads down as they walk by, as if I'm nothing.  But I see them all squinty-eyed, peering sideways without turning my direction.  Then when they've passed me by, and they think I'm not looking, they just have to turn and stare.  I'd win every time if I took bets.

It's my hat they see first.  Some of them never get past the hat.  If I didn't have the hat, they'd find something else to turn up their fat noses at.

I wonder if they'd be just a bit impressed if they knew what I had to go through to get this hat.  It's a one of a kind A-9 flight helmet with rare sponge rubber ear cups installed half inside and half outside the canvas helmet.  It's got a set of R-14 earphones with the proper cord and plug and oxygen mask snaps to attach an oxygen mask.  It's marked with a "lucky 13" on the forehead and for what it's been through, it's in pretty good condition with only a couple of thin spots.

After I saw the waterbugs crawling over my cardboard sleeping mat, I went kind of crazy for a time, and I knew I would never sleep again, drunk or sober, until I had some secure protection to keep them, or any other insect from ever getting in my ears again.

I spent a lot of hours looking through dumpsters, searching for something that would work.  I finally gave up on the dumpsters and started hitting the thrift stores at the fringes of the downtown.  I was almost in total despair from failure until, in GRANDTHRIFT, I saw it.  It was perfect for my needs.  It was sitting in the store front window, all decked out on one of those styrofoam heads used for wigs and hats.  I checked all my pockets for change and found I was twenty-two cents short.

A little old lady was passing by and I hit her up for the twenty-two cents.  She looked scared and dug me out a quarter, just sure that I was going to grab her purse or mug her.  The sales lady said the styrofoam head didn't come with it.

I had intended to wear it only at night for bug-protection, but it makes me feel secure and I have grown so used to it that I wear it all the time.  I've become well known along my circuit.  People call me "Pilothat".  I refuse to take off my headgear even during free meals at City Union Mission, and the preaching service beforehand.  They have found it is easier to make an exception to the rules for me rather than hear me scream.

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