So the other night after walking for an hour (yes, this makes me better than you) I came home to find a guy passed out on my steps. He didn’t look particularly homeless – hell, he was better dressed than me (Burberry scarf!) I woulda just walked over him but he was blocking my door. This had never happened to me, so I was unsure what to do. I tried shouting at him to wake up a few times, but he didn’t move. I looked around for a stick to poke him, but found none. And didn’t really wanna be the guy that pokes drunk guys with sticks. So I thought hey, I’ll call the police. Then it occurred to me I had no idea how to do that. I mean, it didn’t warrant a 911 call. He wasn’t breaking into my apartment, and he wasn’t threatening me. How do you even call the police? What the hell’s their regular, non-911 number? Plus, I didn’t wanna be the guy that set off a chain of events that led to some fat white cop plugging 30 rounds into a black guy for no reason.
Finally he heard me shouting and woke up. He staggered to stand up, and stared right into my eyes.
“Cool scarf,” I motioned.
He walked away, oblivious to my shouts that he’d forgotten his beer.
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