The Evil Eye

On Sunday I went early to the park to meet the bouncer guy and set up for the party. I drove down in the mini-the car packed full of strawberries, whipped cream, table cloths, napkins and party favors. I was a one-woman party mobile. It was drizzling and we prayed it would not rain. We had lost track of who we had invited, and in an effort to make sure no one felt excluded, had invited far too many people. We had canceled once and could not cancel again. There were too many people to fit in our house. It was a rainy birthday party, or nothing. At least the picnic tables--two of them--were under a shelter.
I walked in and there was a homeless woman sitting at one of the tables. I told her hello, and that we had reserved the space for a birthday party. It started at 11. She made no sign that she had heard me. She had a walkman in her ears. I got some more stuff, then I walked around and looked her in the eye and told her again. She started yelling at me. She said it was a public park (it was!) She said I was spoiled (I am!). She said to back off. She was not moving. She looked like she was going to attack me.
I am not easily scared. But I felt like she was going to attack me. She kept saying, just back off. You need to back off. She looked right into my eyes. Deep. She hated me. She was not just a crazy ranting homeless person. She was more sane, and more bitter. She had on nice clothes, nice shoes. She was clean. She had everything in a big, big knapsack. Her hair was long, her face unnaturally red, from either too much sun, or too much drinking. She looked hard. So hard. More like the kind of person who might kill you in a bar with a broken bottle than a homeless woman. She told me she would get my license plate number and go after me. It was ridiculous--and impossible, but also frightening.
I had so many conflicting emotions. On one hand, I didn't want to back off. I felt my pride and animal defenses rising. I was not going to let her push me around. On the other hand, it was raining. She had nowhere to go. Everywhere the homeless go in Los Angeles they are just chased to the next spot. When the police sweet Hollywood Boulevard they flee to the parks.
I am spoiled, I thought. It is a public park. And yet, my liberal guilt does not mean I want to be sworn at by a homeless woman, or cursed by her.
Ironically I was in a park with a police headquarters right there. But when I went to check if anyone was there, there was no one. I was on my own.
So I just started setting up. Right next to her.
At 10:55 she started packing up all her stuff. She walked by and I said thank you. She said I was not welcome. Then she threw down a piece of paper on which were scribbled the words: Federal prison Assault Harassment. By then the boys had arrived.
"I hope they take your children away from you," she said.
I felt a chill go down my spine. I felt cursed.
Then she went over to the car and took down the license plate number. After that she went and stood by the bathrooms (out of the rain) and just stared at me. People started arriving and still she stared. Finally she left.
I was shaken.
Jonathan said to feel compassion. He said maybe her children had been taken away. She was crazy. We are spoiled. It Is a public park.
All of this was true.
And yet, I could not shake a horrible feeling. I felt deeply unnerved. Was it because she looked right in my eyes with such hatred? Did I feel unmasked? Like I am so spoiled? That I have become the kind of bossy, entitled citizen who believes she can just kick people aside to have her child's extravagant birthday party?
Do I just want to be liked? To be seen as a good person, even by homeless people?

I don't know the answer.
All I know is that her curse stuck with me like a poison, or a shadow.
I loved the party, but I couldn't get her eyes, and her hatred, out of my head.

I still can't.

Has anything like that ever happened to you?