Stanley: An Unexpected Ally

[How a night shift gym manager restored a piece of my dignity]

Stanley, what a guy. Before I met him, or had ever conversed with him, I made it a point to do everything I could to never piss him off. If you have ever seen the "Friday" series with Chris Tucker and Ice Cube, Stanley was the modern day Debo. He was intimidating to say the least. Surprisingly though, shattering all my preconceived stereotypes of hulking bodybuilders, behind his hardened, tough, towering appearance, was a Man who had walked an eerily similar path as myself, the same path which I was currently traversing.

At this point in my homeless journey, I had been living on the streets full time for a couple months. Up until now, due to the fact that Austin TX tends to have rather hellish temperatures deep into December, sleeping outside on the ground was manageable. It was by no means optimal, but it was the choice I made in life.

[HW 183] bridge at Lamar Blvd I regularly slept under

Numerous times in my life, outside of recovery circles, I have heard a common misconception that just because someone chooses a painful path in life, it is suddenly devoid of struggle and despair. The thought centers around the idea that because someone chooses to live on the streets, jam needles in their arm all day, eat out of trash cans, and steal to support their habit, since they did this to themselves, it doesn't qualify as struggle and doesn't meet the threshold for proper, legitimate heartache. Maybe for some that is true, although I highly disagree. When asked my opinion, I rigorously cite the example of two Men walking down a busy street, one Man jumps in front of traffic breaking his neck, and the other Man is a victim of a drunk driver, also breaking his neck. Regardless of the method of injury, does that change the fact that they both have broken necks and are probably feeling tremendous amounts of pain? I don't think so. I would argue it hurts a little more knowing that I did all of this to myself, and could have avoided it. I say all of this to illustrate that despite my choices, I was still in tremendous amounts of pain, and was seeking to escape that pain the only way I was currently willing to try.

The fateful day came when freezing rain hit the atmosphere, plummeting the temperatures to near freezing levels, which is essentially defcon-5 freak-out material for us Texans. As I thought about ways I could avoid sleeping under the 183/Lamar bridge like I had become accustomed to, other than seeking treatment and changing my life, I strolled into a nearby gym which had become my "home base" i.e. my oasis in the desert, my one outlet where I could shower and fill up my water bottles with tap water. Now, if you saw me walking down the street and couldn't tell I was homeless, there was a 100% chance you were blind or didn't have eyes all together. I was in rough shape to say the least. Due to the growing homeless population in Austin, it was not hard to spot someone who had taken up residence on the streets.

As I sought a brief respite in the glorious Planet Fitness off Anderson Lane, sitting on the prospective member sofas racking my brain on what I was going to do, I noticed Stanley slowly approaching me. I had become painfully rehearsed in this likely conversation of, "Hey man you can't loiter here" at which point I would say, "Oh yeah I know I'm just waiting on my Uber", which would buy me 30 minutes to warm-up and figure out my next move. I had never spoken to Stanley before, so I just assumed he was going to give me the same old spiel that every other manager had. They were not at fault, they were just doing their job. However, I was pleasantly surprised when he smiled and said, "Hey bro do you want a burger?" Any given day there was a 100% chance that I was tweaking harder than a shorted out light bulb in an old school Soviet Gulag, so my first reaction was to think, "Oh my gosh am I tripping so hard right now that I'm actually at a barbeque?" You know the struggle is real when you have to remind yourself that you're in a gym not at a family reunion barbeque. As I came back to reality, I saw Stanley offering me a McDonalds burger that he had previously not eaten. Naturally I played the whole, "Oh man I can't ask you to do that" game, but he simply smiled and wouldn't take no for an answer. He then proceeded to ask me questions about myself, inquire as to what I was doing, and inform me that he had seen me for some time walking the streets. As I warmed up to him and told him my situation, he casually says, "Look bro, I work these weeknights from 10PM-4AM so whenever I'm working feel free to come in and I'll let you sleep in one of the tanning beds, I don't want you to freeze out there. You just have to be gone by 4 when the morning shift gets here." I was shocked. Again, I was catapulted into tweakerville conspiracy land wondering what in the world was real and what was imagined.

If you have spent any extended amount of time living on the streets, you are painfully aware of the reality that most people will treat you like you are trash, and some will even go out of their way to remind you how miserable of a "thing" you are. I wish it weren't that way, but unfortunately, most people flat out suck. I have always believed you can tell what someone really is about, what they believe, and what is truly in their heart, based upon how they treat "the least of these" when no one is looking. Yes, no one is required to be nice to anyone, and no one should feel sorry for anyone especially if they chose the lifestyle that they are choosing. However, in my world at least, it's not that black and white. Grace, compassion, and decency, in my book, are when someone treats you with dignity and love, even when the rest of society says you are undeserving. Because after all, how can I expect the world to show me grace, if I can't show it myself? Stanley was one of those guys who understood grace because he had been in similar instances as myself.

[Planet Fitness] on Anderson

After a handful of late night stays on the Planet Fitness express, with Stanley at the helm, I began to get to know him on a personal level. We would talk about life, reminisce on simpler times, and talk mad shit about the other Planet Fitness managers who were nowhere near as cool as him. Hey, honesty is key yall. As our conversations progressed, I learned that Stanley was in recovery as well, from the same substances as the one I was currently destroying my life with. It was like talking to a long lost friend. He "got" it, understood my pain, and knew what it felt like to be down and out. He knew what it was like to trade in your dignity for pipes and needles. He knew the mantra, he understood the self-talk, and also understood there was a solution to the problem, something I had yet to embrace. He also knew that the best way to showcase that solution to someone still struggling was to let their actions speak for their beliefs, not their words. In my opinion, showing someone that they have recovered from a hopeless state of mind, goes so much further than quoting something out of a book. Preaching to the choir is great, and many well-intentioned people utilize this during their acts of service to others. For me, I was the kind of guy that was much more impressionable by watching someone walk the walk. Stanley never once told me to get my life together, he never suggested I seek a higher power, he never even brought up the subject of recovery unless I brought it up first. He literally met me where I was, and extended an arm of grace to me that was so foreign, given the situation I had become used to.

Stanley left the gym a few months later, falling back into old habits and hang-ups, eventually landing himself back on the streets. I know this because towards the end of my 14 month long homeless excursion, I ran into him one night while I was buying drugs. He had lost most of his muscle, his face was gaunt, and he has the same tweaker eyes as I did. However, he was still the same guy who went out on a limb to help a complete stranger, the same guy who risked losing his job and exposing his employer to massive amounts of potential liability, as well as the same guy who handed me back a little piece of my dignity that I had forgotten a long time ago. He made a lasting impression on me, something that I will never forget. He reminded me that despite one's choices in life, everyone is still equal, everyone deserves grace, and all is not lost. He reminded me, without ever saying the words, that when my time comes to give back, it is my duty and greatest responsibility to reach out my hand of grace, whether the person asking knows they are asking or not. You see, I was crying for help that night, and I didn't even know it. I was subconsciously searching for a grey area, a loophole in societal rules, an exception to the redundant narrative that this world somehow values above all else. For some reason my spirit led me into the gym that night, positioned me in a place of undeniable need, and allowed me to experience that much needed miracle that I so desperately needed to experience. The miracle that says not all people are bad, including myself, everyone has bad days, including myself, and everyone is worthy of love, including myself. God bless you Stanley, wherever you are.