Panic Every Day On The Streets
By John Mohan

This past January, I completed a five-day executive-level development course in Carefree, Ariz. Following the course, I was to take a chartered bus back to the Phoenix airport with my classmates, transfer to a shuttle, then pick up a rental car for some holiday touring.

On the bus, I packed my suitcase into the storage area below and stored my laptop in the compartment above my seat. When we transferred to the shuttle, I made sure my luggage followed.

However, about 10 minutes before arriving at our destination, a sickening feeling and wave of panic swept me as I realized I didn't have my laptop. I had forgotten it in the overhead compartment on the last bus.

When I announced the unfortunate discovery to my wife Brenda (who had joined me the last few days of the course), she gave me a look I'd seen from her a thousand times before in our 29-year marriage: the "You're so stupid" look. (Every husband knows that one.)

In keeping with my usual travelling practice (see my March 5 column), I had paid no attention to the details of my mode of transportation, except knowing I had just been on a bus.

I knew I had to call somebody, but whom: 911? 411? The Psychic Hotline? I stared at my Blackberry, lost in a daze of confusion and indecision. Nothing was coming to me. On the verge of panic, I was about to do what "real men" never do: ask for help.

As I could feel the words forming in my mouth, some of my friends from the course noticed the bus we'd travelled on passing us. (I knew God liked me!) Quickly, we wrote down the company name and bus number, and I immediately Googled the information needed to secure my stray laptop after picking up the rental car. Holidays would commence as planned.

Something like this happens hundreds of times over right here in Winnipeg, but with some differences. Take away the buses, shuttles and rental car and replace them with a pair of second-hand shoes. Either too small, pinching the feet -- or too large with cardboard stuffed in them. Undoubtedly, they'll be well-worn and soaked whenever it rains.

Take away several concerned, helpful friends and replace them with a confusing and overworked bureaucracy where you're just one file among thousands. Take away the Blackberry to locate and call for help, replacing it with a pay phone on a street corner. But first you'll panhandle for enough change to make some calls. The reactions will range from people ignoring you to insulting you with a few compassionate gestures mixed between.

Take away the moment of uncertainty and replace it with a long-term mental illness mixed with substance addiction. Take away the holiday and replace it with long lines for a free meal and longer hours of waiting for a shelter with nowhere else to go. Now, take away a missing laptop and replace it with "no fixed address." Take away one person and replace that with about 1,700 people.

Quite the adventure, isn't it? Welcome to Winnipeg Homelessness 101.

Originally printed in The Winnipeg Sun Wednesday, May 7, 2008.
Reprinted with the permission of Sun Media Corporation.