Return of the Hobo

The hobo was back last night, in the same spot. So he didn’t die. He was indeed looking much better, and he seemed sober. He even had a bindle this time! Well, no stick, but a plastic grocery bag with some stuff in it. That counts, right?

I am starting to wonder if he’s going to make this his winter home. If so, I think I should make up a Harry Potter-ish address for him, should any of you wish to contact him:

The Hobo
Between the First and Second Floors
The North Stairs
High Street Parking Garage
Nashua, New Hampshire 03060
The United States of America

The Hobo on the Stairs

I just stepped over an actual, honest-to-goodness hobo on my way home from work. Well, an actual vagrant / homeless person, at any rate. I don’t think he was carrying a bindle.

He was sleeping on the stairs in Nashua’s High Street Parking Garage, apparently drunk. I wasn’t sure he was OK, so I woke him up: “Excuse me. You OK? Hey! Hey! Are you OK?” Him: “Mmmmmime OK. Ennnhhh. Tired.” Me: “OK then.” Except for having your drink fully on, and that lurid black eye, OK, then.

I considered calling the police, but he was sleeping within a few hundred yards of a homeless shelter. I assume he knew exactly where it is. A lot of shelters don’t admit the obviously drunk. And I figured the cops would just roust him out of the parking garage. There probably isn’t anyplace better for him to go. Not clear he’d be any better off wherever else he had to sleep. So there he remains, snoring away.