crack whores in Austin

Ok, now I've seen everything...

Vince and I had some friends staying with us in Austin for ACL and the Sufjan concert. Kit and I were in the living room watching some TV, and Daniel was outside talking on his cell phone. I went into the restroom. While I was in there, there was apparently a knock at the door.

Thinking it was Daniel, Kit opened the door. Standing outside was a woman in hippie garb (burka, sandals, etc...) She asked if she could come in. Thinking she was one of my friends, Kit let her in.

About this time, I walked back into the room. Her back was to me, so I thought that this was one of Vince or Kit's friends, but it soon became apparent she was not.

Her feet were dirty and she had a kinda desparate look on her face. Something right out of Requiem for a Dream.

She (probably) concocted a story about a black lady who was hassling her and how she just wanted to come in to get away from her. Being the naieve person I am, I kinda sorta believed her. I offered to let her use a phone or call the cops or something. She didn't seem to respond to that. She kept asking if there was a party going on, to which we responded we were headed to bed.

She then started repeating that she "could pay," and that she "was cool," and kept offering to turn us on. At this point we flat-out, categorically denied that ANY of us needed to be turned on by her. She was kinda agitated at this point and was walking further into the house, looking in all the rooms. I got her turned around and corralled her to the living room, right next to the front door. At this point, she sat down on the couch and started reaching in her bag.

By the time I figured out what she was doing, it was too late. A vagrant hippie crack whore was smoking a rock on our couch in our living room! I really didn't know what to do. Vince had retreated into the back room hoping the problem would fix itself. Kit was in the kitchen with an apologetic expression on his face mouthing the words "no physical contact," with which, I heartily agreed.

The moment she was done, I hurried over to the door and asked her to leave. Thankfully, she did. I locked the door behind her.

She kept wondering around the neighborhood for at least an hour, stoned out of her mind...

Was she casing the place? I hope not, but I think she was too high to do much of anything.

Should I have called the cops? Probably. Of course, she probably got picked up soon after.

I hope she's getting help. Drugs can f-up your life. For the rest of the evening, I kept thinking what her family must think about her... whether they know she's a druggie, if they even care, or if they even keep in touch.

Kinda sad really.