Three homeless buddies enter a half empty McDonalds on Seventh Avenue in Phoenix, AZ. Two of them order from the dollar menu while the other waits. To avoid the eat-in tax the group says the order is to go, then shuffles over to the table where they start to eat. An employee notices but lets it go and continues sweeping the floors.
Three homeless buddies enter a half empty McDonalds on Seventh Avenue in Phoenix, AZ. Two of them order from the dollar menu while the other waits. To avoid the eat-in tax the group says the order is to go, then shuffles over to the table where they start to eat. An employee notices but lets it go and continues sweeping the floors.I’m clearing the tray of my own dollar menu when one of the guys asked for75 cents. This was for a cheeseburger, apparently, but they were loaded, and we all knew the quarters would go on booze. We ended up striking a deal: “I give you the .75 cents,” I say, “if you give me an interview.” They happily agree.
Before me is 51 year-old Milton, his friend Bernagleene, 49, and Ray Tomas, 35. They are Native Americans, alcoholics and homeless. Milton is the leader while Ray is more quiet.
