Linguine’s just a bridge

, originally uploaded by marcusrm.

Me and some of my bestest pals went up to Chicago for the weekend to check out Blue Man Group at the Blue Man theatre, take in some Chicago delicacies, and of course, pass gas.

After seeing Blue Man Group Friday night (which was phenomenal!) we decided to throw back some seriously authentic Italian at Buca di Beppo‘s, a family style dining experience. They bring plates piled high with the entrees you order, then you dip off onto your plate what you want and chow down.

Well, we ordered waaay too much food, so as we all sat around loosening our belts, staring at this pile of pasta that we, as men, could not conquer, I said, “let’s just get this to go and give it to a homeless person.”

So, we cabbed back to our hotel (five of us… in one cab… not pretty) and Scot and I ventured off to see if we could find a recipient of this fantastic Italian cuisine.

Not two blocks later, we saw a man near the end of an alley digging through a dumpster (the alley looked much like the alley in the pic in this post). He already had a garbage bag half full of foodstuffs he’d picked through. As we approached him, he waved us closer to him, which I found to be a little different, but who am I to even understand what it’s like to live on the street.

Scot speaks up and says, “hey man, you hungry? We got some food if you want it.” He looked at Scot in the eyes, then me in the eyes. He nodded. I stepped up and handed him the bag. It was seriously a 10 lb. bag of food. Linguine, Chicken Parm, a huge meatball.

The homeless guy turned away, as if he was going to collect his things and go (he did have a bag or two on the ground) so Scot and I turned to leave as well. Then, the gutter became a reality.

“Would you invite me to eat at your table?” he asked.

I’ve read lots of books. Books about how to be a Christian, books about how to deal with the homeless, how to bring them love, how to show them who Jesus is, how to just love them, how to help them adjust to right-wing and left-wing policies. That all went out the window.

I didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Yes I would. If I had a table here, yes I would.”

I paused to see if he had anything else to say, and I got the vibe he didn’t. I was wrong.

Scot and I had already turned away again when the hammer fell.

“… in your home?”

I barely gave him time to say that last word. “Absolutely.”

He and I locked eyes for a half a second. “Ok then,” he said.

It wasn’t about the food. Well, okay, to him it was about the food. To me, the food was a way for me to connect with this guy, even for a couple seconds. This is what Crash is all about.

Christ wasn’t in a Benz. He wasn’t in a Bentley, vacationing in the Rockies on the weekend, then jetting back to his town house in the city. He was right there in the gutter. I believe that’s where we need to be.

Maybe you think there aren’t opportunities around you to do this kind of thing. Did I preach the gospel to him? No. It wasn’t practical. Should I have stuck around while he ate and talked to him? Yes, but fear crept in.

It’s time to live, guys.

chicago alley, chicago, linguine, the gutter, homeless, buca di beppo, blue man group, blue man

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