A Homeless Dude

I could blog about the wonderful visit I had from my Uncle and Aunt, when I ate everything that New York had to offer and saw them properly sozzled for the first time in my life - they could barely focus. Or I could blog about my favourite FIL's visit, during which he seemed to walk 10,000 miles, as he seemed to miscalculate how far everything was.

Instead, I'll blog about a crazy situation that has been playing on my mind over the last month. The Clinton Global Initiative was taking place at the end of last month here in NYC. I and a colleague had a meeting with someone from the State Department's Office to Monitor and Combat the Trafficking of Persons at the swanky Sheraton hotel near Times Square. We talked about how people become trafficked, with particular reference to children who leave home, as I work for a not-for-profit focusing on children's care and protection.

On the journey home on the subway, this young lad got onto the train, clearly having spent a long time sleeping rough. He opened his mouth and began, 'My name is X and it's my birthday today...' To which a fellow passenger, clearer agitated, sighed loudly and gestured for him to get off the train. '... I am 27 today and I have been sleeping on the streets for over nine years...' X continued, ignoring the man's aggressive behaviour.

Fellow Traveller then said, 'I've seen him so many times before... Always the same spiel...'

I was just a bystander, but I felt so caught between the two. Earlier that day, I was talking about how we are failing children by not protecting them - whilst sitting in the plush surroundings of a New York hotel in midtown. The next I'm on a dirty train, caught between the awful tale of a young man, who is being accused of talking bollocks. I felt awful; I didn't want to be unworldly, too trusting, but at the same time, I didn't want to be heartless, too much a big-city girl.

My face betrayed me as I caught the eye of Fellow Traveller, who looked wounded and embarrassed. He mouthed, 'I'm sorry.'