In 9th grade, the University of Denver invited the entire grade to do a tour of their campus. To get there, we took the light-rail, which picked us up by the Buckhorn Exchange and dropped us right off at DU. The reason why I remember that so well, was because I was stuck in a train car with 30 other students, several teachers, and some random homeless dude (who’d clearly been addicted to something for a long time, considering how scrawny and toothless he was) passed out across a row of seats in the middle of the traincar. 

Since we couldn’t really avoid him, we simply occupied the empty rows around him and got on with life as usual (well… for the most part). Nobody except for me seemed to even notice him, let alone feel uncomfortable. When I asked my social studies teacher (who was also the principal of GALS) if we should be more wary of the guy, she simply shook her head and said, “He’s not gonna hurt anyone.”

The next year, when I told that story to the eight high school students at my private Christian school, they couldn’t believe that my peers and teachers at GALS were so nonchalant about riding the light-rail with a homeless dude. 

To be continued…