Nov. 29 Lucky I'm White

 Thursday

     When I wake up on Thursday morning it’s still dark, but not for long. The walkers aren’t on the trails yet, but a few maintenance trucks are trolling around the park. I need to find out where they’re coming from and see if I can get into one of those trucks. It’s been raining most of the night and even though I’m under a picnic shelter, the high wind has been spraying me and my sleeping bag is damp on the outside. I sling it over the cart handle to dry a little while I dig into my supplies for something to eat.

                It’s broad daylight by the time I’ve pulled myself together for the day. The sun has burned through the heavy clouds and the puddles are turning to steam. Haulover Park is actually a large sand-bar island. From the satellite view on Google maps there appears to be a maintenance building on the opposite corner of the island. That would be a place to start asking about a job. A paved walking trail circles the island so I follow it around toward the other side as I look for a grounds office. Many people pass me jogging in expensive outfits, walking their miniature dogs with gelled hair-doos, and pushing bored babies in designer strollers. I try to make eye contact and greet them, but mostly they just stare at my cart and look away. I feel awkward, but not as awkward as them. They pass me with sour expressions barking their frustrations into Bluetooth headsets. I’m content to be a little awkward-looking. Fitting in around here isn’t worth selling my soul.

                The water’s edge is rocky on the inland side of the island. There’s a public safety department with fire engines, a marina with docks and racks of yachts stacked four levels high, and parking lots filled with mortgages on wheels. Finally I come to the back corner of the island and find the maintenance building with several official-looking people standing next to running utility trucks. I introduce myself and explain that I’m looking for local employment in grounds maintenance. A large black man explains that I have to go to the Miami-Dade county website and apply online. Hmm… I was afraid of that. I don’t like applying for jobs online. How are you supposed to impress a website with your people-skills? I write down the address they give me and keep walking. What next? Well, it’s nice out and I’ve been looking forward to that beach! Might as well check it out.

                Only the most dedicated beach-goers are out this morning. Not only is it still early in the day, but the wind is blowing so hard it’s hard to keep standing and it’s not exactly warm by Florida standards. Only like 75 or something. None of the life-guard stations are open yet so there’s no swimming allowed. After a few minutes of beach-combing, I decide to come back another time.

                The next job possibility to look into is Greynolds Park Golf Course. It’s quite a distance from here though. I trudge inland, back over the road I came down last night. I’m depending heavily on my smartphone for GPS directions, but also trying to stretch the battery as long as possible.

Several hours later I see signs for Greynolds Park. A wooded driveway takes me past marshes and trees with roots like an upside-down menorah. Several types of long-legged birds wade around the trees. Apparently they can’t see the warning signs about crocodiles.

The grounds open up and I see signs for a main office. The lady there directs me to the grounds building. A maintenance truck passes me with the same Miami-Dade logo. That’s not an encouraging sign. In the pro-shop a perky old lady tells me that the grounds manager has already headed home for the day. When I explain that I’m looking for employment she tells me that the park is owned by Miami-Dade County and that I’ll have to go to the government website to apply. Drat! I walked all the way out here to learn that? I guess I need to find some internet access and check out this website. Apparently all the local grounds work goes through the government. I passed a Dunkin’ Donuts on my way out here. Maybe they will have free wi/fi and hopefully an outlet to charge my dying phone.

By the time I get there I’m more than ready for a break! The Dunkin’ Donuts has a perfect little café-style sitting area with padded chairs and a coffee table! I get myself a $2 coffee and sink into a big, fluffy chair. I could fall asleep right here, but the coffee keeps me on track. I need to check out this website. It’s a poorly designed government site and I run into broken links before I finally get to the “jobs” section. There’s a short list of openings, but they’re for all over the Dade county area! None of them are close by, and none of them are for positions I’m qualified for! Well, that’s discouraging! They control all the grounds jobs in the area and they have ten openings for the entire county? I need to make some Mexican friends!

It’s time for a change of pace. There’s a library on the coast several miles north of Haulover, and I’m definitely in the mood to vegetate in a library for a little while. A big city like this with so much money must have a really nice library! This Dunkin’ Donuts is pretty nice, but kind of noisy and $2 is more than I’m used to paying for coffee. I think it’s time to go check out that library. My joints complain as I peel myself out of the chair and lift the pack over my shoulders. Back on the road...

The miles to the library feel longer than the earlier miles have been. The afternoon rush-hour is starting and heavy traffic makes everything more complicated. I find the library in a deceptively large building. It’s actually a government building with several offices and departments under one roof. The library section is tiny, hardly bigger than the fast-food restaurant I left an hour ago, and it’s terribly crowded! There is not a single open seat for me to sit down with my computer, and there’s at least thirty children running around without supervision. This has got to be one of the lamest libraries I've ever seen! I really want to just sit down and write on my blog for a while, but this trip has been a complete waste. So far, everything I’ve done today has been a complete waste.

Nothing will wear you out quite like discouragement, so the slow walk back south to Haulover Park is a long one. It’s already getting dark, but I’ve got one more job lead to look into. Indian Creek Country Club seems to be privately owned from what I can find online. Maybe that means I can talk to a face rather than a website. They’ll definitely be closed by the time I make it that far; they’re in the complete opposite direction from Greynolds, so I have to retrace my steps all the way back to Haulover and then go as far again to reach Indian Creek. It will be late at night by the time I get there, but just beyond the golf course I can see a park on the map. If I can make it to that park, maybe I can spend the night there, then I can be at the golf course early in the morning to ask about a job. High-end courses like this start early in the morning, so it might impress the supervisor if I can be there at the crack of dawn.

Indian Creek is three towns away, but towns here aren’t like towns in Maine. A single one of these high-rise condo towers is a full city in itself and each “town” is packed with twenty or more of these towers. In the middle there’s a business area with malls and window shops. Yuppies and retirees are strolling around with shopping bags and miniature dogs with military cuts. I still draw a lot of attention with my banana-yellow cart and huge orange hiking pack, but I still feel like I’m the least weird person I’ve seen all day.

When I get near the golf course I turn off the main road. The course is actually on a privately owned island connected by a bridge. The entire coast of the island is circled with residences and the inside is a large golf course.

Well, there it is. Now I need to go find that park and land myself a place to sleep for the night. It sure will be good to lay down! Several blocks later I reach the park. It’s fenced all the way around and when I finally come to a gate there’s a large sign that reads in bold letters, “Park closed sunset to sunrise. NO TRESPASSING ” Ugh! I wonder if that’s enforced? Suddenly I see police lights flashing from inside the park! There’s a cruiser in there and it looks like they’re definitely enforcing the rules! Wow! This is not my day! It’s going to be a long way back to Haulover, but it looks like that’s the only option I have for the night. So much for impressing the people at Indian Creek with an early arrival tomorrow morning! There’s a drinking fountain just inside the park, so I stop for a drink to keep me going for this last stretch. I take a couple sips and turn around to exit the park, but there’s a tall, skinny cop standing there watching me. Where’d he come from? Surely, I can’t be in that much trouble for stepping ten feet into the park for a drink? …right?

“Do you have an ID on you?” he asks as he eyes my cart suspiciously.

“Uh, sure.” I dig my wallet out of my pocket and hand him my Maine license.

“Not from around here, hu?”

“No sir.”

“Where are you from?” 

“Maine.” I know he just read that on my license, so it obviously is not the answer he’s looking for, but how am I supposed to give the right answers if he asks me the wrong questions?

                “Yea, I mean where did you come from just now?”

                “Uhh…” I point behind me “That way.” This is painful, but He’s going to have to ask the right questions. I don’t know what else to tell him. Thankfully he’s showing no signs of impatience. We could both do this all night.

                “Okay, how about, Where did you sleep last night?” Bingo! A question I can answer.

                “Haulover Park.” I point to my cart, “I’ve got camping gear in there, so I’ve just been sleeping on a picnic table.”

                “What have you been doing today?” Wow! All this because I used the drinking fountain?

                “Um, I’ve been walking around the area looking for work. I was just over at Indian Creek Country Club to ask about a job.” He nods without expression.

                “Can you tell me everywhere you’ve been today?” Hu? What’s the deal? I only had a few sips! I explain everywhere I’ve been today and deny being several other places that he asks me about.

                “Do you have any weapons on you?”

                “No. Well… I’ve got a small knife in my pocket.” I point to my pocket while being careful to show that I’m not reaching for it.

                “How big?”

                “Um…” I hold my thumb and pointer apart, “Like this.”

                “Like this?” He pulls out a folding knife of his own.

                “Yea, like that. I lift my shirt so that he can see the clip on my pocket. Do you want me to show it to you?” I motion to pull it out.

                “No!” He barks. “If you pull it out, I’ll have to shoot you!” Holy crap! I don’t have any idea what’s going on right now, but this guy seems terrified of me. I’m pretty sure I’m not going to jump him with a 70-pound sack on my back. In any case, they take their drinking fountains pretty seriously around here!

                “Please have a seat.” He points to the curb. I comply. I’ve been mentally preparing to explain that I was only getting a drink, but he hasn’t asked anything about that.

                “Is there something wrong?”

                “You just match the description for someone we’re looking for.” Oohhh. I guess I’m off the hook for public drinking, but now I have no idea what I’m in trouble for. He stands over me and grabs his radio snapping police jargon to the dispatcher. I can’t follow what they’re talking about, but it’s definitely serious. He reads off my name and numbers from the license. Seconds later four more police cruisers swing around the corner and surround the scene strategically. There goes any chance I had of making a break for it! I can see it now…

“Attention dispatch: We're in pursuit of a curly-haired Caucasian male carrying a 70-pound back-pack and pushing an unregistered late model yellow cart! Please advise, over!”
"Attention all units: Advise you get in shape, over!" I hope these cops are feeling loose, 'cause I've been training all month for this!

I’m pretty sure this is all a big misunderstanding, so I’m just glad for a chance to sit down and rest. The cops pile out and surround me. A chunky one hoists himself out of the center car. He starts to give me the hairy eyeball, but immediately bursts out laughing!

                “I thought you said your guy matched the description!” The tall cop defends himself,

                “I said ‘loosely’ matches the description.” He emphases “loosely” with air quotes. The other cops release tension like deflated balloons, and they’re all laughing. The chunky one turns to me.

                “You’re lucky you’re white!” I hesitate to agree too eagerly. What is that supposed to mean? I don’t want to sound racist or anything. He turns back to the tall cop.

                “They said ‘Hispanic,’ and ‘full beard’ sure, but not Grizzly Adams!” He motions toward me. I realize that my shirt is still unbuttoned from earlier. From my surf-tossed curls to my two month-old beard, and my shag carpet of chest hair, I think I could give Grizzly Adams a run for his money.

                I’m obviously off the hook but they seem bored and in no hurry to chase down the next serial fountain-drinker.

                “What’s in the cart?” one of the back-up cops asks me.

                “Camping gear. Sleeping bag, tent, food… stuff like that.”

                “So you’re homeless?”

                “Yea.”

                “Hmm…” He nods with an amused smile. So were you going to sleep in the park?”

                “No sir, I saw the ‘No Trespassing’ signs and I was headed back to Haulover Park for the night. I’ve been sleeping there on a picnic table.”

                “So you travel around a lot?”

                “Yea.”

                “You ever been arrested in this area before?”

                “No, sir.”

                “You ever been arrested back in Maine?

                “Uhh…” I think for a second to make sure, “No.”

                “Anywhere else?”

                “Uhh… well… I was arrested in India once.” Suddenly they’re all keenly interested. This must be a terribly boring night in the precinct, but they apparently want to hear all about it.

                “India, hu? What happened?” I give the short version of the story about the time I was caught in Nagaland without official papers and held for the day until I got deported. None of them seem anxious to resume driving in circles looking for a Hispanic man with a full beard, but eventually I’ve told all I have to tell about my walkabout, adventures in India, and detailed personal history. It’s getting late, so I don’t bring up Africa. Finally I ask,

                “So, are we all set here?” I can almost hear them groan as they turn back to the five flashing cars surrounding us. Wow! I didn’t know being a cop in Miami was so boring!

                We skip the goodbye hugs and I walk away. As discouraging as the day has been, I suddenly feel much better. It was good to sit down for a while, but it’s more than that. I don’t think I’d realized how lonely I was, but just talking with those cops and telling them my stories was surprisingly uplifting! Wow! I can't believe I just said that! It’s been several days since I actually talked to someone and it was nice. The walk back to Haulover isn’t half as long as it was coming. Soon I’m back at my home-sweet-picnic table. The trail mix is getting old. Tomorrow I should stop by that Win-Dixie I saw over by the Dunkin’ Donuts. Some fruit would be nice.

                I’m definitely going to sleep well tonight! I track my route and find that I’ve walked just under 20 miles today. That’s city miles too! I try not to think about all the failed job leads. I was kind of hoping I’d get a job on a silver platter, but it might be a little more complicated than that. But hey, despite all my misfortunes, one thing did work out in my favor today. At least I’m lucky I’m white!