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5-22-2003 - 4:23 p.m.

There but for the Grace of God

Yesterday about 4pm, I am driving to group therapy, thinking about stopping into Sonic for a burger and birthday cake shake and generally minding my own business. I always feel like loading up on junky fast food before my weight loss group meets. A psychologist would know why

I have come to a fairly busy intersection, close to the gay ghetto, when I notice an elderly, blind man take a step off the curb and fall into the street. Poor guy has lost his white cane.

Now I am blind in my left eye and I don�t walk that well. Sometimes I have to use a cane to get around. I would hope that if I fell in the street, some kind soul would offer me a hand up. This is Kansas City; people are still nice to each other here.

So I put the Miata in park, blocking traffic and go to his assistance. You would have done the same. I get within about 3 feet of the man, and I notice that he doesn�t smell like the perfume counter at Nordstrom�s. He smells like an outhouse in the sun�

Or a brewery.

He�s not even trying to get up, and traffic is whizzing by. �Hey Dude� I said. �Let me help you up. You can�t be lounging in the middle of Broadway� I�m trying to be lighthearted, because I don�t want to embarrass the man. I reach for his elbow to help him up and he takes a swing at me.

"Fuck off!" he slurs. Apparently my new friend is drunk.

Really drunk.

Stumbling down drunk, lying in the gutter, peeing in your pants drunk. I jump back, out of range of his swinging arm. He is calling my mother unkind names. I�m 6ft tall and weigh about 175. I am not used to people trying to fight me.

Especially elderly blind gentlemen.

There are 3 bare-chested twinks cruising and sunning themselves on a park bench nearby. �He�s drunk!� the twinks call to me, explaining the obvious.

Well, no shit, but we still can�t just leave him in the street. "Boys!" I said, trying to sound adult and parental "I could use your help."

Reluctantly, the twinks come to my aid. My fallen friend isn�t swinging anymore, in fact I am pretty sure he has passed out because he is now dead weight when I tug on his elbow. People in the passing cars are waving and honking.

Some are waving with only one finger.

Fortunately, I am a trained professional. I know CPR. With the help of the twinks, we logroll the man out of the street, up over the curb and on to the grass of the median strip. It wasn't pretty, but it was safe. We place him on his stomach, head turned in case he vomits. He ain�t going anywhere for awhile. It�s a nice day, he�s not going to freeze to death while he sleeps it off.

"Man, that is fucked" observes one of the twinks as they go back to their sunning, smoking and joking on this pleasant spring day.

�The curse of demon rum, boys.� I thank them for their help. I�m sympathetic guy, and I feel badly, but I am not going to wrassle this guy into the Miata and take him home with me. I do get out my phone and call 911 to notify the police.

When I am driving home past the same intersection later that night, the man is gone.



Go Back
Previously in Justinland: Our Last Five Entries

Wagons Ho! - 4-23-2004

This Old Barn - 4-17-2004

Death and Taxes - 4-15-2004

MMQB:Leftover Peeps - 4-12-2004

The Alamo; The Movie not the Shrine - 4-10-2004


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