I steadily walk half a mile every day, around my neighborhood; but today I was walking a mile more. 30 blocks of pure pain for my feet to see a show that I could have very easily watched on television. By the time we got to the big, gorgeous theater, I forgot about how everything that had gone wrong up until this point. The fact that my feet were throbbing, this city smells like one big dumpster, and the people here are super rude, just vanished. None of this mattered to me anymore. The excitement I had pre 30 blocks rushed back up my spine. I was about to enter the New Amsterdam Theater! As the 51 of us crammed into a small, slightly air conditioned space, the more my feelings began to overwhelm me. I gave the man my ticket from my sweaty
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The boys in our group were being disrespectful and calling it "no homes land". We were told several times that if we want to help homeless people, do not give them money. We are not supposed to judge them on their past, just try to help them move forward. We were instructed to only offer to buy them food. I thought that was extremely generous. Getting a meal rather than a dollar is more beneficial. While passing through all the homeless people, some would come up to us and ask for money. Karen would say no, and offer to buy them some food; but they would insist on money. I was really surprised and a even a little angered. Instead of supporting their habits, we're trying to help them survive and they're acting like we're insensitive people. While I was trying to not look at the people in need, I heard music. I turned my head in all different directions to find the music. I was expecting a beautiful guitar and friendly looking people but that is not what I got at all. What I did see was a homeless man using a right handed guitar as a left one. He was pretending to play music along with a radio outside of a store, and he himself was surrounded by bottles of alcohol. Another thing I was hoping to see, vanished. New York definitely was not what I was expecting. I kept walking, ignoring the blisters forming on my feet. "We're almost here guys! We just have to cross the street. Now when we get there I want you to come to me for your ticket and get in the line so Bob can count you." After what felt like hours of walking, my smile finally returned to my face. We crossed the street and then we were there. The New Amsterdam Theater. My heart was pounding with excitement as Karen handed me my ticket. We all crammed ourselves into a small room just outside the theater, and handed the men our tickets. Once we entered the theater and found our seats, the lights began dimming. I couldn’t believe I was about to
The boys in our group were being disrespectful and calling it "no homes land". We were told several times that if we want to help homeless people, do not give them money. We are not supposed to judge them on their past, just try to help them move forward. We were instructed to only offer to buy them food. I thought that was extremely generous. Getting a meal rather than a dollar is more beneficial. While passing through all the homeless people, some would come up to us and ask for money. Karen would say no, and offer to buy them some food; but they would insist on money. I was really surprised and a even a little angered. Instead of supporting their habits, we're trying to help them survive and they're acting like we're insensitive people. While I was trying to not look at the people in need, I heard music. I turned my head in all different directions to find the music. I was expecting a beautiful guitar and friendly looking people but that is not what I got at all. What I did see was a homeless man using a right handed guitar as a left one. He was pretending to play music along with a radio outside of a store, and he himself was surrounded by bottles of alcohol. Another thing I was hoping to see, vanished. New York definitely was not what I was expecting. I kept walking, ignoring the blisters forming on my feet. "We're almost here guys! We just have to cross the street. Now when we get there I want you to come to me for your ticket and get in the line so Bob can count you." After what felt like hours of walking, my smile finally returned to my face. We crossed the street and then we were there. The New Amsterdam Theater. My heart was pounding with excitement as Karen handed me my ticket. We all crammed ourselves into a small room just outside the theater, and handed the men our tickets. Once we entered the theater and found our seats, the lights began dimming. I couldn’t believe I was about to