I remember once running an errand in San Francisco (I was maybe 18 at the time), and when I was done the shortest way back to BART was to walk straight up Sixth Street to Market Street. Now, Sixth Street's nickname is "Crack Street", which will give you an idea of the neighborhood. It's as close to being in the Tenderloin as you can get while being on the other side of Market Street, and as Dave Chappelle said, "There is nothing tender about those loins!"

Anyway, as I was walking up Sixth, a homeless woman sized me up and decided that I obviously didn't know what kind of neighborhood I was in, and probably couldn't take care of myself. So she walked along with me, chatting to ...

I remember once running an errand in San Francisco (I was maybe 18 at the time), and when I was done the shortest way back to BART was to walk straight up Sixth Street to Market Street. Now, Sixth Street's nickname is "Crack Street", which will give you an idea of the neighborhood. It's as close to being in the Tenderloin as you can get while being on the other side of Market Street, and as Dave Chappelle said, "There is nothing tender about those loins!"

Anyway, as I was walking up Sixth, a homeless woman sized me up and decided that I obviously didn't know what kind of neighborhood I was in, and probably couldn't take care of myself. So she walked along with me, chatting to me all the way, up to Market, which must have been at least four or five long blocks, at which point she said "So long!" and headed back the way she'd come.

No request for a handout. No asking for anything. Just a feeling that "this young woman doesn't understand where she is and might get herself into trouble, and I don't want that to happen" and the willingness to take action.

I think of her periodically. I hope she's doing well and has gotten into a better situation.