Florida criminalized homeless people sleeping in parks. They got creative. | Opinion

Florida has found a new way to criminalize homelessness. A state law that went into effect in October makes it a crime to sleep in public parks, the grounds of public buildings or other public property.

We’re driving the homeless to improvise. 

The proliferation of large indoor self-storage facilities have become a low-cost housing solution for some homeless people, I’ve been told. These facilities are air-conditioned, clean and locked at night. And they’re available at low introductory rates.

I thought the notion of homeless people living in storage facilities was an urban legend. Then I rented space in a storage facility to handle my expanding universe of barely keepable possessions.

I went there recently as soon as the storage facility opened for the day. While inside the mostly darkened cavernous building, I heard the faint sounds of recorded music being played and then saw a woman in a bathrobe pushing a shopping cart.

“There’s a homeless woman living in our self-storage place,” I told my wife after I got home.

On a subsequent trip, this time just before the storage facility closed for the night, my wife was with me when the same homeless woman appeared again. She was coming from outside, pushing a shopping cart and returning to the storage place for the night. 

A chance encounter at Publix?

The next day, I ran an errand at the local Publix market.

I’m one of those dinosaurs who still uses cash, and so I inevitably end up with pockets full of change. So, every day, I empty my pockets, dropping the change into a sturdy box. Over months of doing this, the box fills with coins. That’s when I lug it to Publix, which has one of those machines that tally up all your change for a service charge. 

On this day, I ended up cashing in more than $400 worth of loose change at the Publix. The worker at the service desk gave me the cash. I put it in my pocket and walked outside. 

And there she was! The homeless woman from the storage unit was right there, a few feet from the store’s entrance. I was sure of it. She had on the same bright pink T-shirt she had on the night before at the storage unit. And I recognized her long, stringy hair.  

She was sitting on the pavement outside Publix, leaning on a wall while eating supermarket sushi from a container she had placed on the pavement between her splayed out legs.

I stopped and reached into my pocket with the roll of bills in it. I peeled off a $10 bill and stood over her, extending my hand with the money. 

She looked up and hesitated. I further extended my hand with the bill, and said, “Here,” while smiling. She paused again, then took the bill without saying anything. 

I walked away, thinking I had done my good deed for the day. But before I reached my car in the lot, I saw the homeless woman practically running up the next aisle and scampering into a Mini Cooper sports car. 

That’s a pricier car than my old Toyota. I was confused. So, I called my wife. She had me describe the woman eating the sushi outside the Publix.

“That’s not the homeless woman,” said my wife between convulsions of laughter. “She wasn’t wearing a pink shirt and she didn’t have long, stringy hair.”

And then my wife leveled a complaint I had heard many times before from her: “And you have terrible facial recognition.”

That’s because every time I try to describe somebody by likening that person’s looks to a famous person, my wife will say they look nothing alike.

Memory is a tricky thing

But I wasn’t ready to take the blame for giving a well-heeled Boca Raton woman $10. Maybe she drives a Mini Cooper – and a shopping cart. 

“If she’s not homeless, then why is she eating supermarket sushi in a container on the ground?” I said. “She sure was acting like somebody who is homeless.”

It has been a few weeks now. The more I think of it, the murkier things get. Memory is a tricky thing. Upon further reflection, the woman outside the Publix did seem kind of young at close range. 

Maybe she was just a middle-class 21st century suburban hippy with unorthodox eating habits who thought she was being hit on by some dirty old man in a pickleball hat outside the supermarket. And it freaked her out so much, she ran to her car and drove away.

You see my predicament? I go to that Publix all the time. One of these days I’m going to run into that woman again. What do I say? 

“Sorry for the confusion, ma’am, but you looked and behaved like a homeless person. Can I get my $10 back?

“I want to give it to the woman living in my storage facility.”