He sits on the corner with a helmet high up on his head, demanding change from the people walking down Hyde St. When I shake my head at his request, he said, “Well, how about a hug?”
There are broken CDs taped to the outside of his helmet, and as I hug him, I can see through the clear visor that it’s stuffed with various articles of clothing: a glove, a sock.”My name is Spaceman, and my helmet is good all over the universe. It works in space, but also on bikes and motorcycles and helicopters.”
I ask about about the metal chimes hanging from his chest, and he tells me he uses them to do Hare Krishna.
“Like this,” and he claps them together, beginning at tuneless chant of “Hare Kirshna Hare Krishna.” When a tall young man dances across the street in time with his chanting, Spaceman shouts after him, “Hey! How about some change for the music? I play, you pay!”
Spaceman tells me that he wants to buy something from the convenience store across the street, but he’s nine cents short. When I ask if I can take a picture from him, he insists I give him some change. I relent, but he hears the rest of the change in my wallet, and won’t even look at the camera before bargaining for more.
“Where you goin’ girl? You gonna get on the BART?”
“No, I’m just filling up my Clipper card, then heading to yoga.”
“Oh right, gotta do your yoga. You’re probably a vegetarian and you eat yogurt.”
“I am a vegetarian, but I don’t like yogurt.”
“Yeah, well there are lots of things that you don’t like that you have to put in your body, because they’re good for you. Kids these days, they get drug education, sex education. I’m 64, and we didn’t have none of that when I was a kid.”
“Yeah, ok, I gotta go.”
“Oh, okay. You eat your fruits and veggies.”
“I will. Bye, it was nice to meet you.”
But he’s already lost interest, and returns to badgering anyone who walks by.