This was going to be a funny story about small-town living. Guess not.

It was quite the scene outside the window of our booth at dinner last night.

When we pulled into the parking lot across the street from the nice restaurant in town (yes, THE nice restaurant), our friends were quick to notice two homeless guys sitting on a park bench outside the computer-repair-and-coffee-hut store.

"Wow, we have homeless people here??" gasped one friend.

I told them about seeing one homeless person at the other end of town about two years ago, not long after we moved here from the Bay Area. At the time, the homeless guy sort of made me feel more at home.

When I worked in downtown San Francisco, homeless people were just a part of my everyday fabric. They were a part of my routine. I parked in the same 2 or 3 spots at the train station, stood at the same place on the platform, saw the same fellow commuters in line, sat in the same train car, and walked past the same dozen homeless people on my walk to my office, every day with the same signs and vacant stares. Homeless people used to be part of my daily scenery. Eventually I stopped seeing them even though they were always there.

As the four of us ordered our dinners, we noticed the two guys were still sitting on the park bench, bedrolls and blankets nearby. Sometime after our salads, the two guys got up and walked over to the Foodliner, a local convenience store. Midway through our entrees, we noticed a police car pull up. Then another, then another, then a fourth. The entire town's on-duty police force was now at the Foodliner.

The store's owner came out of the store as one of the cops stood in a power stance, talking to one of the homeless men. We still don't know what happened to the other man or their bedrolls.

One cop pulled on some latex gloves. Another cop did the same. The homeless guy was told to sit on the ground. They chatted with him. He swayed a bit. They gently searched him. They recovered two cans of beer. A paramedic arrived. The man's vitals were taken. Everyone seemed calm. Our waitress asked if we wanted dessert. We said no, we'd just linger over our wine. She smiled, noting, "Yeah, nobody at the window tables is leaving."

The man stood up again. One of the gloved cops helped him put on his coat. Then an ambulance arrived, no lights or siren. The owner of the tattoo parlor next door was outside casually smoking a cigarette -- in shorts, a t-shirt, and 42 degree weather. A few passers-by stopped passing by and just stood on the sidewalk to watch. Oh, and then Tanya Harding walked by our window, crossed the street, went into the Foodliner, and emerged smoking. No joke. She's our one and only local celebrity and this was my very first Tanya sighting. She nonchalantly crossed the street behind the ambulance and disappeared. She never looked at the homeless man.

The homeless man and his entourage of 4 cops, 3 paramedics, and 1 store owner slowly walked to the back of the ambulance. He climbed into the back and calmly sat down, arranging his coat. The doors were shut behind him. The ambulance drove off, no lights or siren. The paramedic went another direction. The four cop cars slowly pulled away. The store's owner went back inside. The tattoo parlor guy ground out his cigarette butt and went back inside. The passers-by passed by our window. We finished our wine and paid the bill.

Haves vs. Have-Nots. Big city vs. small town. A ride in a police car vs. a ride in an ambulance. A bottle of wine vs. two cans of beer. Power stance and latex gloves vs. being helped on with your coat. Not quite the funny slice-of-life story I thought it was going to be. But still a slice worth sharing.