Gas Station/ I'm Tryin' to Get to the Halfway House!

So, I'm at the gas station last night, just minding my business...when this older (probably mid-forties) black dude walks up into the gas station ranting..."...yeah man, I need to get back to the halfway house." As said "older dude" walks past my vehicle, I hear him talking with another cat he seems to know. "Yeah man, I'm just tryin' to get back to the halfway house". A couple of minutes later, a random white chick is agitated by something he does, as I don't hear him "say" anything.
RWC- What the fuck are you doing, what is your problem?!
OBD- (Hock-too spits in defiance)
RWC- You can spit all you want, whatever, I'm better than you!
aaaaaand scene!
Wow, right...yeah, my sentiments exactly.
Tires screech as red BMW leaves BP filling station on 14th and Euclid, NW DC.
But wait, there's a scene two. RWC winds up catching a red light. Dude walks back behind my vehicle for purposes of continuing negative interaction.
RWC- (insert insults here)
OBD- Up your butt, bitch!
To which he simulates the act in a dancing fashion.
Further insults are thrown from both parties before she turns the corner and speeds off.
Older dude turns to me, as he is obviously offended, yet not too offended as to make this an opportunity to bum money off of me.
OBD- See, all I was trying to do is ask her for money so I could get back to the halfway house, and she got on her high horse of I'm better than you...did you hear that? All I'm trying to do is get back to the halfway house
ME- Yeah, I feel you. But you shouldn't have even responded. It wasn't even worth it.
OBD- Yeah I know, but I wasn't trying to bother her, I was just trying to get back to the halfway house. All I needed was $1.50 to catch the train. And you're my brother...
uncomfortable pause
Translation- You're my brother is the means that I'm obligated to help said OD despite unfavorable actions.
ME- (sigh) Let me see what I can do for you.
I walk to my truck, to which Old Dude followed me entirely to close. I ask Lynn if she has any loot, as I don't want to get stuck up while reaching for mine...indeed, I was prepared to punch old boy in his face and bounce. Lynn has me pass him two dollars after she further corrects his etiquette, or lack thereof.
The cat thanks Lynn profusely and asks us to pray for him, he then tells us his name is "Mickey"...as if God wouldn't already know. We pull off...laughing at the ridiculosity (what up, Drew) of said events.
Epilogue- Now, although I wanted to believe OBD and take his word, and was pretty sure he was a head or an alcoholic, or both. Just the fact the cat was nowhere near a train stop, kind of sealed the deal, but, I figured the two dollars was better than some dumb shit poppin' off.
PS- Had ol' girl popped off at the mouth on the south side, or further up 14th street, even...her ass would've been pulled out the car and..."reprimanded". Had he been in Georgetown, or towards Capitol Hill, his ass would've been "reprimanded" by DCPD. We obviously have a long way to go with social relations in this country.