I pointedly asked him what he meant by that as he was kind of a snobby type. He said I seem to have known a lot of druggies, hookers, strippers, little guys living alternative lifestyles and things along those lines.
A big part of it is that I was living on the streets myself, so to speak. My home was either a camper/trailer or a sailboat in the small boat harbor.
Yet another part of it was that in a small town like the one I spent my late 20s and 30s in was just that. It was a small town and everyone in it shared a number of things.
Everyone has to eat and the restaurants there catered to everyone as did the supermarket, the drug store, the hardware store and the basic department store.
We were all pretty much in the same boat, so to speak.
Not being a homebody, I was out a lot and met a lot of people. I knew just about everyone and was welcome just about everywhere as I wasn't too judgemental about what someone did unless it was out and out wrong.
Like everyone else I had to eat and did a lot of odd jobs to get by. I worked in the local strip club from time to time either remodeling things or simply doing a few repairs. I had a reputation of doing pretty good work and being easy to get a hold of.
A couple of times the strip club owner would hire me as an ID checker/doorman. I met a lot of interesting people there just as I did when I did a job for a local church.
Speaking of working for churches, they were for the most part cheapskates. After you turned in your bill they would want to barter and tell you that the wages of sin are death.
When I pointed out that the wages for working at the strip club were union scale plus they'd throw in a half-dozen free drinks they'd generally get pretty indignant. Finally they'd grudgingly cough up what they owed you.
I also worked for a local night club every so often doing work for the owner, again either repairs or remodels. This was a pretty good gig when it came up because the owner was a great guy to work for. I met a few people there, people of all walks of life.
Being a fisherman/sailor/carpenter introduced me to a compete cutaway of the entire town from the mayor to the guy that ran the dump. In reality the guy tht ran the dump was more useful to know than the mayor, though.
After all, the guy running the dump would sometimes save me some of the better throwaway items from time to time. I wound up with some pretty good hand tools from him as well as some other odds and ends. All the mayor ever did for me was give me a headache.
To find out why the blog is pink just cut and paste this: http://piccoloshash.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-feminine-side-blog-stays-pink.html
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