48

I continue to watch the hustle and bustle of people walking past me in addition to the street performers in front of me, the band playing on the stage to my right, loud music blasting to my left and the folks zip lining from up above me. Despite all of the excitement surrounding me, I still feel invisible. I wonder if the thousands of folks that keep passing by even know that I am sitting here or do they know, but don’t want to acknowledge someone that is not like them, when in reality I am them. Their actions certainly does not indicate that. I just want someone to smile at me. Someone to make eye contact even. Or just a simple hi. Are these things so hard to ask for? Well, maybe they are when you are invisible.

I sip the last of my water. Just like that all of my fluids are gone. I notice the crowd traffic in front of me is starting to slow down slightly. It has to be around midnight now, but I am still not quite sure. As I turn towards the stage, I see people dancing, hugging, socializing and simply having a good time. Then I see the depressed looks on the faces on some of the homeless folks that are likely camping nearby, doing what they can to survive. Then there is the glitz and glam of the bright lights of the casinos. It’s an interesting dichotomy as I am now on the other side of the fence and quite frankly, I am starting to develop a distaste of the side I thought I knew. As this despair starts seeping in, it deepens when I see what appears to be a homeless veteran riding in an electric wheelchair pass by. Both of his legs are amputated beyond his knees and he is holding a sign that reads, “Homeless Vet, Hungry and Lonely, Please Help.” I stood up, likely to quick. I see black very quickly, before my normal vision is restored. My head spins several times before stopping. I brace my hand against the wall just in case I faint. “I’m good, I’m good.” I tell myself repeatedly for reassurance. I attempt to walk towards the veteran in the wheelchair to give him the $20 bill that I was just blessed with, but he is gone into the crowd. I will see him again I tell myself. I sit back down.

I am feeling thirsty. The temperature is likely in the low 90’s or high 80’s by now and extremely dry. My lips are starting to crust, further signifying that I need some fluids. I feel something crawling on my ankles and when I shake my leg, there’s a small black and brownish roach scattering across the dirty pavement to my right underneath a small crevice of the wall I was leaning up on. I would have reacted much differently, if tonight was the night before. I notice that things I previously cared about are no longer.