Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Drunks Of The Week

The Onion started on the major college campus in the town where I grew up.  A high-school classmate went down to campus several times a week to take a college-level math class and he would bring back a stack of the latest edition.  Back then the space-filling features (think: horoscopes) were a bit more...home-grown.  A great laugh was always the Drunk Of The Week.  Trolling State Street (the college bar strip) around last call, the reporter would find the drunkest person, stand them up against a wall, and take a picture.  The prize was a free cab ride home, and the pictures were far better than Nick Nolte's mug shot.

I offer my own submission for Drunk(s) Of The Week because by the end, they were still drunk and I felt drunk.  But no one was dead!

As I was driving home from pub trivia, I passed a person working on their bike on a dark sidewalk one block off the Interstate.  I continued on for about a block until I acknowledged that karma comes back around and U-turned to check out if they needed help.  It was a girl about my age and one crank-arm on her fixed gear bike was hanging at an unnatural angle.  Still inside my vehicle, I asked if I could help or maybe give her a ride.  She wanted to go either home or to the pedicab garage.  "Ok, where's home?"  She named a place at least 10 miles away.  How you even get here from there on a fixed gear is beyond me.  Pedicab garage it is!

We loaded her bike and her.  Only then do I realize - smell! - that she is drunk.  Her hands are covered in grease and her knees and elbows are covered in big scabs - which are now cracked and oozing! - indicative of skin scrapping on pavement.  I found out she delivers sandwiches downtown on the now-inoperable bike, so I guess that makes sense?

Her friend then called and once I took over speaking into the phone using sentences that made sense, I discovered her friend was in a car nearby, coming to help.  The friend arrived in a 2-seater with another person shotgun and two bikes on a 2-bike trunk rack.  I decided not ask how my passenger and her bike were intended to fit.

A Chinese fire drill ensued, and somehow I ended up with a different passenger and a different bike in the back.  She smelled less drunk and was not bleeding or greasy.  I took her the less than 10 miles to her house.

As I drove home the only thing I could do was shake my head - to try and clear it!  The whole thing seemed so surreal, like a bachlorette party bar crawl led by the drunk maid of honor.

The next morning I found a set of keys in my car.

I took them to the apartment where I had dropped my second passenger because that was my only point of contact.  I found out they belonged to my first passenger, who somehow got home only to realize she couldn't get inside.

That is just one part of a night of which I wish I had pictures. 

No comments:

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...