Austin has a surprising number of panhandlers. I have four regulars staking out the highway entrance and exit ramps nearest my apartment. My favorite holds a sign reading, “Need Beer” while the saddest has a sign reading, “Even 25 cents helps.” I’ve lived in much larger cities, but few with this sad quantity of beggars. As a single woman, I’ll admit I’m intimidated. Nothing raises the hairs on the back of my neck like walking alone downtown, studiously ignoring a man on the street, only to have him shout, “God gonna rape you inna ass an leave you bleedin...
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