A few days ago I was on parked on Sunset Blvd sifting through my mobile closet I call my car trunk. At any point, I have enough clothes in my trunk to go and start a new life somewhere else. Roll into a new town with just the clothes on my back…and in my backseat…and in my trunk.

My closet raid was interrupted by a friendly passerby. I saw him approaching and I cold tell he was the kind of person that will turn even the slightest eye contact into a full blown BFF conversation. I knew this and yet his whole being yearned for a speckle human interaction. Against my better judgment I nodded and smiled in his direction. Once I grin he’s in game begin…

I was in a rush but this guy probably stared down twenty people before me without receiving any acknowledgement of his existence. He probably wasn’t homeless but he was homelessy. My grandmother had a theory that she passed on to me that, at any moment anyone might be God coming to test you. Just a stranger on a bus… Not that you should treat people who aren’t God like crap but the possibility of them actually being God can really keep you in on your peas and carrots.

I didn’t want the next day’s headline to read: Dwayne Perkins Snubs God.

So I engaged my non-homeless homeless (NHH) guy. He was friendly and my nodding and affirmations seemed to make his day. But then my charity case made my day. We noticed that he was wearing sweat pants almost identical to a pair in my trunk. He told me he had trouble because the pockets were shallow and had lost a few things because of that. I told him I could dig it. Then he showed me his new pockets. He had zippers installed! And there was my ah-ha moment.  It was I who was the charity case. NHH blew my mind.

I have long since wanted to wear track suits 2-3 days a week. Problem? My two prized track suits don’t have zippers. What NHH had done was so simple yet so brilliant. Perhaps he was my garment guardian angel. Whatever the case it was definitely a glaring sign that I should implement my track suit plan. As I write this my pants are in the cleaners getting zippers sewn in. Hey world I hope you’re ready for my track suits. I’m going Jersey! … Or I’m going Miami … or I’m going Glendale, CA.

The track suit in question.