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Monday, August 19, 2013

Last Call

When you work the all night and/or the early morning shift, alcohol is a part of your life.  No, not the use of, or the abuse of the beverage personally.  I'm talking about watching others imbibe.

I frequently have to avoid cars weaving all over the highway.  I've stepped over piles of vomit in mini mart parking lots.  I've taken those phone calls from people who swear they've seen UFO's.  I've heard the police calls due to alcohol fueled domestic violence situations.

Thursday morning was a first.

It was a day off, and I took my usual pre dawn bike ride through my little town.  I got a few blocks away from home when I noticed a woman sprawled out on a sidewalk.  She looked to be collecting some personal effects, including a cell phone.  Minding my own business is one of my basic rules of life, but I sensed something was wrong.  I rode over to the curb and asked the woman if she was okay.  She stumbled and slurred her way through a few sentences I couldn't understand.  I asked if there was anyone I could call for her.  More gibberish in response.  I rode away, and I didn't get far.  I noticed shoes in the street.  The woman was obviously drunk off her arse.  I thought there was a chance she could stumble into traffic or do a face plant on a concrete sidewalk.  She was a danger to herself.  I pulled out my cell phone and called the police communications center.  They dispatched the local police.  I waved when a police car drove up, and I told them what I just told you.

I couldn't watch the rest.  I saw police approach the woman and I rode away into the moonlight.  I assume the police got her home, somehow.

Is there a moral to the story?  Probably.  It's as simple as "know your limits," because you never know when you'll have to rely on a guy on a bicycle to call help for you in the middle of the night.