After living in a suburb for most of my life, when I moved to a major U.S. city the first thing I noticed was the feces. At first I assumed it was dog poop, but my naivety didn’t last long.
One day I saw a homeless man waddling towards me at a fast speed while holding his ass cheeks. He turned into an alley and took a shit. As I passed him, there was a moment where our eyes met. He sheepishly averted his gaze.
The next day I walked to the same place. There are a number of businesses on both sides of the street that probably all have bathrooms. I walked into each of them to investigate.
In a coffee shop, I saw a homeless woman ask the barista if she could use the bathroom. “Sorry, that bathroom is for customers only.” I waited five minutes and then inquired from the barista if I could use the bathroom (even though I hadn’t ordered anything). “Sure! The bathroom code is 0528.”
The other businesses I entered also had policies for ‘customers only’. Nearly all of them allowed me to use the bathroom despite not purchasing anything.
If I was that homeless guy, I would have shit in that alley, too.
I receive more compliments from homeless people compared to the women I go on dates with
There’s this one homeless guy—a big fella who looks intimidating—I sometimes pass on my walk to the gym. The first time I saw him, he put on a big smile and said in a booming voice, “Hey there! I hope you’re having a blessed day!” Without making eye contact (because I didn’t want him to ask me for money), I mumbled “thanks” and quickly walked away.
I saw him again a few weeks later. With another beaming smile he exclaimed, “You must be going to the gym—you’re looking fit, my man!” I blushed and replied, “I appreciate it, have a good day.” He then added, “God bless you, sir!” Being non-religious, that made me a little uncomfortable.
With our next encounter, I found myself smiling as I approached him. This time I greeted him first, “Good afternoon!” His face lit up with glee. “Sir, that’s very kind of you. I appreciate that. God bless you!” Without hesitation I responded, “God bless you, too!” I’m not sure the last time I’ve uttered those words; I don’t even say ‘bless you’ after people sneeze.
We say hi to each other regularly now. His name is George.
Is that guy dead?
Coming home one day, I saw a disheveled man lying facedown on the sidewalk.
He’s not moving. I crouched to hear if he’s breathing. Nothing.
I looked up and saw a lady in a car next to me stopped at a red light. We made eye contact and I gestured towards the guy as if to say what the fuck do we do? Her answer was to grip the steering wheel and aggressively stare in front of her until the light turned green and she sped off.
Not knowing if I needed to call an ambulance, I asked him, “Hey buddy, you okay?” I heard back a muffled, “AYE KENT GEEUP!”
Well, at least he’s not dead.
“Uhh, what was that? You doing okay?” This time a more articulate, “I CAN’T GET UP,” escaped from him. Despite his clothes being somewhat dirty and not wanting to touch him, I helped him to his feet.
With one look on his face I could tell that he wasn’t all there. I asked him if he knew where he was or if he needed help, but he could only reply with gibberish. It could have been drugs; it could have been mental illness. With confirmation that he wasn’t dead and was able to walk around, I went home.
Who’s giving Brazilian waxes to the homeless?
I was walking behind a homeless man the other day. He was wearing an extra long flannel and sagging his pants low.
Suddenly, he noticed his (one and only) shoe was untied and fixed it promptly by executing a full standing pike. I wasn’t expecting him to have the flexibility of a gymnast.
In doing so, his flannel lifted up to reveal his dick and balls. The strangest thing? Fully shaved. Who’s going around giving pro bono Brazilian waxes to the homeless?
Crazy people talk to themselves because no one else will
Walking to the library one day, I noticed a homeless woman muttering to herself. There was an aura of urine about her. She was missing several teeth.
When she spotted me, she asked for twenty dollars. My father taught me to never give homeless people money because “they’ll just use it for drugs and alcohol.” I wasn’t busy, so I sat down next to her on the sidewalk and asked, “how’s your day going?”
She launched into a tirade about why her life sucks—it was mostly incoherent and I assumed she was crazy. After about ten minutes, she paused. She skittishly made eye contact with me and said “sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?”
“Well, sometimes I ramble. But that’s because I have no one to talk to.”
“It’s probably lonely living on the streets.”
“Yeah.”
Once she realized I wasn’t going to abruptly leave, she asked me about myself and a conversation ensued. Over the next thirty minutes I learned that in the course of her life:
- She used to be a groupie for famous rock bands in San Francisco during the 1960s.
- Living the groupie lifestyle, she experimented with different drugs until she became a meth addict (hence the missing teeth).
- Broke and addicted to meth at forty years old, she moved back in with her parents.
- While living at home during this time, her brother began to rape her regularly. He told her that if she spoke up he would tell the police about her meth stash.
- She spoke up. Nobody in her family believed her that her brother was raping her. Her brother stayed true to his word and reported her to the authorities. She served multiple years in prison for possession of meth.
- When she was released, she had nowhere to go since her family had disowned her. She’s been homeless ever since. Sometimes she’s woken up by strangers raping her.
At the end of our conversation, she wished me well and said, “enjoy the library!”
“Have you forgotten how our conversation began?”
“...yes.”
“You were asking me for twenty dollars.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“What did you need the money for?”
“My bike’s inner tube is punctured and I’d like to buy a new one.”
I gave her twenty dollars. She shook my hand and said, “God bless you.”
Her name is Teresa.
Part 1: I would have shit in that alley, too
Part 2: A City Within a City
'Public bathrooms' are definitely not 'public goods', not even close. A mere coincidence of the adjective 'public' meaning 'government run' and 'society-wide' doesn't make them so. The market doesn't provide it because it is outlawed; where it is not outlawed, it is provided; and where outlawed, it is often provided by the market in a different form anyway, like being excluded to only paying patrons of a store or restaurant. They are ordinary excludable private goods; often a club good, where load is low. That is enough disproof of it being a 'public good', but in any case:
government-owned land has property rights, and these are allocated, leased, rented, or sold all the time to private parties all the time, and often building and management of facilities in things like parks are outsourced.
This also applies to wanting government-run bathrooms on non-government land - you immediately see the problem. You don't need permission from a skyscraper owner to defend them from North Korea launching nukes at them, which is part of what makes it a public good; you do to install a free bathroom at its base for anyone and everyone to use. Building a bathroom 100 miles away does the people there no good. If it did, then it just might be a public good; but it doesn't, so...
they are extremely excludable: "Excludability refers to the characteristic of a good or service that allows its provider to prevent some people from using it."
Obviously, a bathroom (whoever owns or runs it) can be locked, and often is (as are associated buildings like cafes which might give access to said bathroom). If anyone can walk into a government-run - or Starbucks or McDonalds - bathroom without a permit or paying etc, it's because whoever is in charge of that particular bathroom wants that, same as a privately-owned one.
they are by definition rivalrous ("the consumption of a good or service by one person diminishes the ability of another person to consume the same good or service"), as only one person in a stall at a time, and the timeframe doesn't matter to this point. ("I need to go now!" "Well, don't worry, in the mid-to-long-term it's empty, and we'll all be dead and not need a bathroom ever again, so really, the problem solves itself.") Again, the inherent nature of a bathroom is to have limited space and capacity. Just ask a woman about that.
They are also rivalrous in especially nasty ways - you handwave away 'dirtying it', but I'm not sure you appreciate how dirty is dirty. speaking as someone who has had jobs cleaning government-run bathrooms, specifically, I can attest that cleaning them up can be a shitty job, and whoever was responsible for smearing feces all over the stall and driving people out of that bathroom entirely when they saw it and were understandably repulsed, certainly was a 'rival' to whomever came later and might've wanted to use it. (Regrettably, I'm not even referring to a single incident here. Also, this was even in government facilities which charged for admission BTW, thereby excluding members of the public. The problem is, almost all people will treat the bathroom well, but the ones who do not self-select into using the bathroom...) Even when that isn't the case, users of bathrooms have a remarkable propensity to render them too distasteful to use. (I will never understand just how toilets can become so clogged with feces and toilet paper and urine so often unless the patrons were doing it deliberately. This goes for female bathrooms too.)
Bathrooms do not fit public goods at all, and that is part of why government is so bad at providing government-run bathrooms; there's nothing about them which makes the government better at providing them than any other ordinary private or club good.