Ah, morning weirdness…
Probably just as well I had a wonderful day yesterday so I was all mellowed out for the following, even with the husband’s 1 am phone call from Tennessee regarding his mother’s poor health (the reason he is in Tennessee in the first place).
There I am, snoozing and dreaming weird happy dreams in my snug bed. (I saw Pirates of the Carribean: At World’s End last night, so there was an interesting and kinky bit involving Davy Jones and tentacle sex, but I digress…) My pet cockatiels are snug in their cage, heads tucked under wings dreaming little bird dreams. The house is quiet, serene, silent, at contented peace…
BONG! BONG! BONG!
I wake up, going “Whuh…?” (I am not a morning person). The birds are awake and making distress chirps which I think translate as “QUICK HIDE THE THING THAT EATS US JUST RANG THE DOORBELL HIDE HIDE HIDE!” (For some reason they think bird-eating monsters are deaf, so it’s OK to screech while hiding). I’m having that momentary doubt that I heard anything (other than little birds being loud) when I dimly hear.
“Can’t somebody help me?”
Still half awake, I have this image of a drunken Captain Jack Sparrow mincing on the front driveway while crying out in Little Richard’s voice from that Geico commercial, but then my benumbed brain realizes that this is definitely a woman’s voice and probably real and therefore requiring actual action. I start to nudge the husband to get up and do his manly duty by confronting the interruption in his underwear and, if advisable, some of the household weaponry (it IS quarter to 5 on a Sunday morning and it could be some sort of missionaries or other prostelytizers) but then I remember he’s 500 miles away.
Damn, I’ll just have to do it myself.
At least I remembered to put on a robe first. No sense scaring the neighbors or the doorbell ringer.
So I make my bleary-eyed way to the front door, cautiously stick my face out into the pre-dawn gloom, and see this woman in a sleeveless dress mildly staggering on the border between driveway and street. So I do what any other half-awake idjit would do, I bellow into the morning “LADY, IT’S 5 AM, WHAT DO YOU WANT?”
She turns around, sways, then with remarkable steadiness shuffles up to my door, preceded by a miasma of used booze and sweat. Her speech isn’t slurred, but her word choice is. Something about being thrown out on the street by her boyfriend and being out all night (which I believe - she is wet clean through, her dress dripping wet - she has either been swimming fully clothed or was out in the rain all night without shelter) and not knowing where the hell she is (I can believe that). The one clear thing coming through is that she is asking for help.
OK. I don’t get a vibe that she’s particularly dangerous, but my normal paranoid caution is at full alert. I’m not inviting a stranger into the house, but I know how to use a phone. It’s warm enough outside she won’t freeze to death in the meanwhile. I go back inside, call 911, and report a somewhat incoherent woman wandering around the neighborhood, not making much sense but clearly needing and requesting some sort of aid and assistance. I can hear the 911 operator sigh, contact the police - apparently mine is not the first call about this woman.
After that little chore was done I hung up the phone and threw on some clothes because I might have to talk to Officer Friendly. I went out front. The woman is sort of tottering around in one lane of the four lane road out front, something about looking for a ride. I told her I had made a phone call and tried to encourage her to sit down on some of the patio furniture out front. She’s having none of it, now saying something about how calling the cops is useless because earlier one tried to run her down. Personally, I think it more likely she had wandered out into the road in an inebriated state and the car was taking evasive action, but I don’t see any point to starting a disagreement with someone clearly not functioning well. I just don’t want her mowed down in front of me.
A few minutes later a local sheriff deputy pulls up. As he approaches she asks me if she’s going to be arrested. I told I didn’t think so, he’s just here to help her. He looks at her (yes, she is still channelling Johnny Depp’s character in regards to standing about and walking) then at me and concludes I am probably the Rudely Awakened Good Citizen and asks me what’s up. I simply state that this woman rang my doorbell, wasn’t making much sense, but clearly needed some sort of help. She’s not threatening, just annoying.
So he asks her what’s happening with her. The result is a stream-of-conciousness ramble involving boyfriend, Chicago, moving to Gary, bus passes, riding around all night, walking around all night, being thrown out of a house or apartment or bus (or maybe all three) and much whining. Well, yes, if I’d been out in the rain all night I’d probably be whining too. The gal obviously has some problems. She has no ID, no money, really nothing but the clothes on her back and an aroma of alcohol. It take several requests for her present address for her to say where she lives, which is actually not that far from where I live. It’s walking distance, if a bit longer than most folks find comfortable. She has NO idea where she is at present, and is totally lost and disorientated in that respect. The cop asks her name. She tells him. It’s a little unusual so he asks her spell it. Although she pronounces it the same way each time, she gives him three different spelling, including one with three or four T’s in a row. While she’s doing this her tone is getting more hostile, she doesn’t like that he’s asking her name and address, and she rambles towards and away from the cop, almost bumping into him several times. He doesn’t like this, and asks her to step back and stay back. He clearly wants her at least at arm’s length. She gets pissy at this request and takes offense. I said “Lady, he just doesn’t want you to stand so close”. For some reason, that seems to make it into her brain and she backs up.
By this point he’s telling her that he’s here to help her, but procedure require him to ask these questions, and if she continues to be belligerent he’s going to arrest her for public intoxication instead of helping her get home. How can he help her get home unless she tells him where she lives? He then asks how much she’s had to drink. She denies drinking. He says he can smell it on her (like, at ten paces - it’s that several-hours-old alcohol sweat odor). She admits to drinking earlier that night. He said, OK, what would you like me to do for you?
More incoherency about the boyfriend, a bus, being out in the rain all night…
The cop looks at me. I shrug. He asks if I know her. Nope, never saw her before in my life. He says OK, if you want you can go back in, he can handle it from here.
So I do. And since it’s not that much earlier than when I usually get up, the birds are engaged in their Dawn Serenade, and I’m hungry I decide to fix breakfast and get on with the day. A few minutes later I look out the window and both the woman and the deputy are gone.
Well, I hope it has a happy ending. But I can’t help but think this is more like what living in the city of Chicago used to be like, with Odd Neighbors and Characters, than the quasi-rural area I moved to 10 years ago. Damn - the urban stuff is following me out here! You know, the biker bar that used to be next door certainly had its “call the cops” moments, but even shitfaced drunk those guys seemed to understand the need to be cooperative with the cops and not get in their face. This woman was just a mix of pitiful and annoying.
