The Last 48
There have been two consistent features of my comings and goings in the past 48 hours: old men and public transportation.Day one: the bus is packed almost all the way downtown. Just south of the Loop, this old guy gets on the bus. He's the one who sells anointed cloths that will cure what ails you: poor health, broke, jobless. Those are some powerful cloths, I think to myself. I usually wave him off or ignore him altogether, but this day, fate would make our worlds collide.
So bus packed (blah blah blah), this guy pushes his way to the back just before the stairs that lead to the rear exit door. Naturally, I want to get off the bus so I ask him to please step back so I can get by. He let loose with a torrent of invective where, moments before, that same mouth uttered platitudes about letting Jesus into your life.
I looked down into his crazy, milky brown eyes and felt the faint spray of his spit on my cheek. I decided not to engage him in anything remotely approaching meaningful comment. A couple of deep breaths, I exit the bus and the moment passes.
Day two: waiting for the bus after a particularly crap day in purgatory (aka the office), I see an old man lying on the ground in the bus shelter. Legs askew. Vomit on his vest. Only partially coherent. I ask him four times if he needs an ambulance or needs to go to the hospital and he says yes each time. I ask him what is wrong and he points to his chest.
I, being a caring citizen, pull out my cell and call 911 telling them the sitch and my location. I turn to tell the man an ambulance is coming and he stands up, asks where they are, and says he's got to go into the alley to pee.
I call to cancel the ambulance. Grrr. People. That'll learn me.
Syndicate Me!
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