Last night, as I made my way home just after midnight from a casual evening of drinking, I was walking down my fancy ass Lincoln Park street, jamming out to Regulators (mound up) and generally minding my own business. I was definitely looking forward to getting to sleep, exhausted by a second five day work week in a row after an 18 month layoff from anything but 4 day work weeks.
No more than two doors down from my building as I loudly crooned, "next stop is the Eeeeeassssst siiiiiddddeee moooooooteelllllllll" I saw a group of young ladies struggling to move their very drunk and very passed out friend from their front stoop. Now it being just past midnight and me having just loudly sounded (more than likely) just like Nate Dogg (RIP. Hold on, I have to go pour out some liquor) I just walked on by, leaving them to their struggles.
As I walked into my apartment however, I did some quick physics calculations:
Drunk person passed out= drunk person's normal weight times 78
Once I did this calculation and realized that the girls trying to move their passed out friend were the types who might complain about having to carry pretty much anything for more than ten feet, I knew I had to, at the very least, walk back over and offer to help out. This was definitely going to be a kind gesture, but it was not very well thought out.
For one, I have never been, and will never be a young girl. I don't have a frame of reference for a 6'4" giant hulk of a very good looking man to walk up to me after midnight in my neighborhood. I have no clue what it is like to walk around at night and feel frightened with every passing person (mainly because you can always bark at anyone. try it, womenfolk.) mainly because most everyone is smaller than me, and probably a little less crazy.
So I ventured back over and approached the three young women trying to move their friend. As I walked up in a totally unthreatening manner, I said, "Hi, as I walked past before I couldn't help but notice that you were having some trouble moving your friend. Would you like some help?"
As I mentioned before, this was uncalculated and this is where I may as well have been Butch from Teen Mom, the cocaine loving, mullet sporting creepy fuck and walked up to them and said, 'Hey, you girls like to party?"
The girls seemed gracious and creeped out all at once as their eyes darted back and forth to one another. One of them spoke up, "Oh thank you so much, but she's just sleeping."
I replied, again with no couth whatsoever, "Oh right, 'sleeping' (laughing) I love 'sleeping' outside after a fun Friday night. Listen, I know how hard it is to move a passed out person."
Right then I wished I could have taken my words back, because stepping outside the situation and assessing it, I may as well have offered them GHB and asked if they all wanted to come over.
The girls continued to fidget nervously, obviously hoping I would turn and sprint away. "Thank you so much for your offer, but I think we can handle it."
"Ok," I said, as I smiled and turned away.
Lesson learned. Let drunk people move their friends about on their own, unless you are asked to help.
