Written by Corey Hutchins
Originally published in 2006
Age: Late 50s
Where Loitering: Maxcy Gregg Park
Time & Date: 9:45 p.m. - July 31, 2006
Quote: â€œNobody fucks with me.â€
Drug of Choice: Booze
â€œI need some goddamn pussy over here!â€
Thatâ€™s what the old white guy with the dirty-gray Santa-Clause-looking beard and mesh truckerâ€™s cap pulled low over his face said after City Paper woke him up from a sacked-out slumber on a swinging park bench in Maxcy Gregg Park the night of July 31.
As thunderclouds rolled overhead and heat lighting lit up his weathered face, the man calling himself â€œJimmyâ€ sat upright and opened his bleary blue eyes wide.
â€œIâ€™m drunk, OK,â€ he said, picking up a battered blue and white backpack and rummaging around through it. â€œBooze,â€ he said.
Jimmy said he did not smoke crack or do any other drugs.
â€œI just do booze,â€ he said, his speech slurred and sometimes incomprehensible as he pawed through his bag. â€œIâ€™m trying to find some right now.â€
Unfortunately for Jimmy, City Paper caught him on a Sunday and could not help him out.
Nor could he be entertained with the other request he shouted out repeatedly throughout the interview.
â€œNeed some pussy over here!â€ he yelled toward Blossom Street as cars passed, his head rolling back against the back support of the bench. â€œGoddamn it! Need some pussy right over hee-yuh!â€
A man on another bench nearby warned him about screaming such things, saying the previous night Jimmy had been yelling that same refrain throughout the Five Points area while people were still out walking around.
â€œShit, yâ€™all should have seen him yesterday... he wouldnâ€™t shut the fuck up,â€ he said. â€œYou better shut that shit or you gonna get everybody locked up.â€
Portions of Harden Street, Devine Street and Santee Street were hopeless for the homeless that evening.
So were the darkened areas between the Shell station and Food Lion.
When asked if Jimmy was drunk, his friend said, â€œyou could call it that,â€ before shaking his head and walking away.
â€œHey Jimmy,â€ he said over his shoulder before departing. â€œCome on before it start to fuckinâ€™ goddamn rain like a bitch out here.â€
Martin Luther King, Jr. Park was also vacant of vagrants, as was the Five Points area. In the alleyway between Wachovia and the Salty Nut Cafe, there were also no hobos to be found.
A Columbia Police Dept. patrol car positioned on Lauren Street created slim pickings for any train track transients near Durkins and Mr. Friendlyâ€™s.
As the thunder grew louder, and others around him got up to find shelter, Jimmy stayed put. â€œI donâ€™t think itâ€™s gonna rain. Iâ€™m [going to] stay right here,â€ he said. â€œGoddamn, shit. Goddamn it, yeah. Fuck the goddamn rain.â€
â€œI need some pussy over here right now!â€
When asked where he was going to get it, and what was going to do with it if he did, he replied, â€œWe can go down to Five Points right now and get it, OK. ...Need some pussy over here!â€
Jimmy said he was from Columbia and had been through a lot throughout the years. He said he had seen quite a bit of the â€œgoodâ€ and the â€œbadâ€ since heâ€™s been on the streets.
â€œIâ€™ve been through a lot of things,â€ he said.
â€œIâ€™ve seen [people] killing other [people]. Right over here,â€ he said, pointing to the woods beyond the park, though he didnâ€™t seem too worried about it.
â€œNobody fucks with me,â€ he said.