Can I have some red hot sauce? Hee hee hee!

Ah, Yale. Beautiful green quadrangles, towering stone gothic edifices, bells ringing, students and professors walking around the campus. A sense of prestige and high tradition fills the air. But walk just a little ways away from campus (or sometimes even within campus) and you're in New Haven, Connecticut, which, let us just say, is not quite the successful, wealthy, modern city one might enjoy wandering alone at night in.

Yesterday we had to go to a security meeting in which the Yale police told us about the dangers of New Haven along with some help from students who performed funny skits. The premise of one of the skits was of some naive Yale freshman who was eager to meet everyone in the city.

"Oh, I just need five dollars," said a person on the street.

"Oh, really? Nice to meet you. Let me see...no I have to go to the ATM...just wait...here...Oh, you need money to get to London?...Yep, one thousand dollars right here. Have fun!"

The lesson was not to give money to random people on the street. The policeman emphasized that there are ways to help the disadvantaged of New Haven through charities, but this was not a good way to do it.

This morning, since the dining halls don't start regular service until September, I walked a short ways out of campus to go to a little breakfast restaurant. Mind you, I did not wander off far. I could see the walls of Vanderbilt Hall on Old Campus just across the street. And then a woman came up to me and said, "Can you spare anything for some poetry?"

"What?"

"The Yale students call me the Poetry Lady. It's all I have to offer; I'm homeless, please give me a chance."

"No thank you," I said quickly, trying to get away.

"Could you give me some money?"

"No." Now I was walking at a fast pace, which, if you know me, you know is quite fast.

"You're so mean!"

So then I got to the restaurant, sat at the counter, and ordered my food. While I was sitting there, I heard maniacal-sounding laughter at the door.

"Hee hee hee. Can I have some red hot sauce? Hee hee hee!"

I looked over and saw that it was the Poetry Lady. Starting to feel uncomfortable sitting right near by, I was glad to see that she left almost as quickly as she had come in, with hot sauce in hand, I suppose.

Well, this is New Haven, my new home.

-Philip