First day of Spring

"Watch out for the Asians," Darius boomed at us, "They like to steal the oranges."

We looked at each other quizzically. The three of us were decked out: hair nets, plastic aprons, plastic gloves and black shirts that said "ALTERNATIVE SPRING BREAK 2010" across the chest. We had white name tags, and I had added a heart to the end of my name which sort of made it look like my name was "Lizzied". It was seven in the morning.

"They like...to steal oranges?" Lexi, my friend and co-volunteer asked. I eyed the pot of coffee behind her, wondering if taking a cup of coffee from the homeless made me a terrible person.

"Yea. Just tell them, ONLY TWO." Darius was 6 foot 6, with a thin silver chain that hung leisurely around his thick, dark neck. He was built like a tank, and his black sweats were stretched tight over his gigantic back. . He was the body guard and self proclaimed "captain" of the Coffee Room in Glide Memorial Church.

We were at Glide to help serve breakfast. This incredible organization serves 3 hot meals a day to 800 homeless around the Tenderloin District in San Francisco. For one of our Alternative Spring Break volunteer opportunities, we had dragged our college selves out of bed before the sun-and before the hostel coffee pot- to work. The Coffee Room was reserved for families, seniors and disabled people and I had signed on for that team in the hope of striking up some conversations. But so far, all I had gotten was a half sentence about citrus and thievery.

Ten minutes later the tables began filling with people. Men, women, children, a few dogs attached to wheelchairs. As people sat down, we raced back and forth from the kitchen carrying trays of grits, eggs, sausage and oranges, all the while Darius yelling, "Feed HER!" "More sugar over THERE!" " Hot COFFEE!" I was sweating. I ducked behind the counter for a sip of water just as a tiny, white-haired, Asian woman hobbled in with a flower print walker and a pink coat. She slowly wandered through the tables, blocking people and ignoring shouts as she poked feet with her walker and kicked chairs with her slippered toes.

"Sit DOWN" Darius boomed at her. She ignored him, face crinkled into a half smile.

"Sit DOWN Ma'am. I ain't doin this today." She grinned a gap toothed smile, still moving through the tables and toward-I suddenly realized- me.

"Ma'am you have got to SIT DOWN. I'mma tired of this! SIT DOWN." Darius raced to where she was, an NBA giant leaping across the floor.

She reached me, and I also realized too late (lack of caffeine) the large bowl of oranges. Darius lunged and grabbed the bowl.

The woman's smile dropped. Her drawn in eyebrows nearly flew off her forehead as she spun around
to face Darius, her head barely above his waist. She opened her mouth and let out a stream of Chinese that sounded like a pissed off guinea pig.

"I ain't doin this!" Darius growled back. "You know the rules. TWO ORANGES."

She squeaked and he rumbled, the mouse and the elephant, back and forth, until finally she gave him a withering look and sat down, waiting for one of us to bring her a tray.

As she ate, Darius went back to his corner to yell demands at us. "More ice WATER!" "Hurry and get MORE trays!" The little woman just sat quietly and ate, and then stood up to leave.

As I watched her leave I wondered about her past. What had brought her here? Did she have children? Why was she homeless? As I stood pondering these questions, watching her slowly manuever back through the table and knocking everybody as she went, I noticed her jacket pocket had an odd, round shape to it.

"Gotta watch out for those Asians," Darius mumbled in the corner, "They just love to steal them oranges."