Living in a van, one of my biggest concerns is the cops. Many towns have ordinances against sleeping in vehicles, and I try to base where I camp in areas that don't have those, or at least have loopholes (Wal-Mart lots are convenient for that). Small towns especially tend to have bored cops, and I have yet to meet a member of the police forces that doesn't err on the side of dickbaggery when bored.
I've been playing it safe lately, keeping it at the restaurant I work at (with the owner's permission), with zero fuss. The neighbors either haven't noticed or don't care, and it's been very peaceful.
This morning was a tad different.
I awoke, curled under my comforter, warm and cozy and pantsless (my van, my rules dammit). My dog, Clooney, was sitting next to me, just staring and willing me to wake up for our walk. Mentally swearing at him, I begin to contemplate actually getting out of bed.
And there's a knock on the van door.
I immediately begin to mentally freak. It's 8am, it has to be the cops, but why would they be here? It's private property, the owner knows I'm here and I have permission and Jesus Christ I'll just pretend I'm not here.
The damn dog barks. Fuck.
Now I HAVE to answer, or some do-gooder animal lover will break into my car citing animal cruelty against this fat spoiled fur ball. I say as nonchalantly as possible, "Just a minute!"
Hiking on a pair of sweatpants, I climb up to the passenger cab door- the side doors don't open from the inside at the moment. Opening the door, my panic immediately washes to relief when I see it's a local that I've met before, when I was hanging with the Barista. And he recognized me.
His surprise was very apparent, and we had a slightly strained conversation. Not in a bad way, but you could kind of tell he wasn't expecting to see someone he had met as a functional human being living in a van. Turns out he's one of my neighbors, just a couple doors away, and he was kind enough to leave me with a bag of odds and ends foodstuffs and an invitation to coffee or tea should I ever feel like it.
Encounters like that are weird for me. On the one hand, I haven't exactly made it very public that I live in a van around town. I want to be known as a person before I'm known for my circumstances. But it is a small town, and I can't be surprised that people will put two and two together. And some will immediately conclude that I may require charity. My pride is intensely uncomfortable with that. I ask favors from friends that I know I will repay in time, I have a running tally in my head of the myriad of people I owe. However, kindness that is intended without reciprocation is just fucking weird to me. After all, I am always the one who makes things happen, I help others. I can't let this insult me, regardless of my vanity. After all, my brain keeps reminding me, "Bitch, you live in a van. Deal with it."
...Not sure how my neighbor expects me to cook a baby pumpkin in a van, though. Bless his heart. :)
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