A LITTLE MORE ACCOUNTABILITY, A LITTLE LESS ENABLING
By Max R. Weller
Okay, the pickled idjits don’t carry spears, only jugs of rotgut vodka in their backpacks, but they look even rougher than this bunch.
It’s become a daily occurrence over the past few weeks; the arrival sometime during the course of the day of two Native American women — one of whom was recently evicted from Housing First at 1175 Lee Hill for inviting her street friends to stay overnight in her apartment — and two Caucasian men — one of whom looks like he’s been beaten in the face (or fallen face-first onto a sidewalk). One inebriate will take a turn panhandling on the corner for a half hour or so (being unable to stand upright for longer periods), then another, and so on, while the others party and sleep underneath the only shade tree in front of the nearby Mexican restaurant in the 4900 block of N. Broadway. NOTE: Both of the white guys can be seen on Boulder PD’s online sex offender registry, convicted for sex crimes involving children.
BTW, they’re no more than 10′ away from large NO TRESPASSING sign placed there by the owner(s) of this private property.
There’s hardly a spot for me there any longer, and it’s certain that none of the business owners or workers or residents of the Dakota Ridge neighborhood will want to stop and chat with me with this bunch of troglodytes present. I have to wait for any chance to “fly a sign” myself for an hour or so, and passing motorists who don’t know me may think I’m part of that rat pack. Hence, I’ve made up a new sign, which seems to work well:
HELP THE SOBER
NOT THE PICKLED
READ MY BLOG
On Saturday, with a special guest guitarist (he can’t play worth a lick, drunk or sober) to accompany the foursome’s caterwauling, they sang the first lines to about 50 different songs because they were too hooched up to remember the rest. Not at all like the musical stylings of the late alcoholic D.H., who sang and played the guitar for years on the corner of U.S. 36, and butchered the lyrics to complete songs in a very funny way (I still wonder if he did so on purpose).
Sunday morning, only one of the women was present as I played the role of humble beggar. However, some stranger with a dog showed up and wanted a turn, which he took when my self-imposed hour had expired. You guessed it; he tied his dog to the signpost at the end of the median in an attempt to gain the sympathy of passersby. I read the Sunday edition of the Daily Camera and a novel for the rest of the time I sat on the wall, until leaving for my campsite around 2:30PM when the rest of the scurvy crew arrived.
Also, as I had a good view of that small commercial district while standing on the median, I was thrilled when I observed a Boulder County deputy cruising through it, looking for loitering bums. Apparently, he didn’t spot Pickled Pocahontas under the tree, but he did run off a transient couple who was lounging around behind the restaurant. He made two passes, and I have no doubt this is due to complaints from people who live and work in the area, as well as the property owner(s). It should become a daily patrol — until the bums get the message that they aren’t welcome in this area.
I understand that their previous hangout had been underneath the bridge at Broadway & Rosewood a few blocks to the south. This suits them better for two reasons:
1) It somewhat resembles a cave; and
2) Their bad behavior isn’t so disruptive to decent people — including the majority of the homeless — who want to live in peace.
It’s TOO MUCH to hope for that the nonprofits in north Boulder would ever choose to do right, and give these bums the $5 bus tickets on RTD to Denver.