I'm so glad I've never been drunk before, because drunk people are idiots. Today, on my way home from French class, I found a drunk, middle-aged, white lady sitting on the curb. It looks like she had fallen and hurt her leg. Her compact was smashed and had been run over by a car. A bottle of perfume lay a few feet from her, also on the street. One of her shoes was on her foot; the other lay overturned yet a few feet further into the street than her perfume. I saw this disarray and concernedly inquired whether she was ok.
Me: Are you ok?
Her: No.
Me: Can I do anything for you? Can I help you get somewhere?
Her: Will you sit with me?
Me: Ok, I'll sit with you for a bit.
Her: D'you got any cigarettes?
Me: Sorry, I don't smoke. Two African-American passersby wander on to the scene.
Black guy: Woah, are you ok? You're drunk!
Her: D'you got any cigarettes? Reaches for the man's cigarette stub.
Him: I ain't got no more cigarettes. But I'll give you this roll-up. Hands lady the roll-up. She looks at the roll-up and gives it back.
Her: D'you got any cigarettes?
Him: I already told you. I don't got any cigarettes. If I did, I'd give one to you.
Black woman: We gotta call you an ambulance or something.
Him: No you don't need to call no ambulance. We gotta get you somewhere before the police find you. They'll put you in detox.
Her: Let's go home. D'you got any cigarettes? Let's talk about love.
Black woman: Let's call an ambulance.
Him: No, we don't gotta call no ambulance. Black woman gives up on her idea and starts to cross the street.
Her: Is she all right? Is she ok?
Me: Yeah, she's fine. Where do you live? Let's get you home. She points north; she starts heading west, through a red light.
Him: Woah, you gotta stop.
Her: My leg...
Me: Is your leg ok?
Her: (to me) Can I have a cigarette? After much stumbling, we successfully cross the street.
Me: No, I don't smoke.
Her: (to me) Can I have a cigarette?
Him: I don't got no cigarettes. I was just going to Pick 'n' Save to get me a TV dinner and then go home and eat it.
Me: Do you have any cigarettes at home?
Her: No.
Me: Do you smoke?
Her: No. Can I have a cigarette? Bye bye.
Me: Do you want me to leave?
Her: She nods. Bye bye.
And so I left. I tell you: that takes the cake. That's the most bizarre encounter I've had in a while--and it serves as a great deterrent from getting drunk. Not only does being drunk make you incorrigibly stupid, but also incredibly annoying. And ungrateful, too. If it weren't for me, her keys would still be at the corner of Van Buren and Ogden. Heck, she'd probably be sitting there still. I should have just tailed her all the way to laugh at her--if she ever found her way.