After work today, I decided to take a little walk along the Richardson Bay, because apparently, I'm in an Ensure commercial. Anyway, I'm plugging along and I near this freeway overpass. The hippie, government walk/bike path runs directly beneath it and every time I venture through, I'm convinced that'll be the moment the big one hits and it's Goodbye, Spotswood.
But right there, huddled in the shade of the overpass were three cyclists, obviously tourists who rented some bikes in Sausalito and seem to be either lost or injured.
I walked right past them.
Hey, I'm not proud of this. But the halfway lamp post was 50 yards away and I had to touch it before I could turn around and walk my ass home. I passed one woman crouched down, covering her face and with her, a couple trying to figure out a cell phone and map.
Not my problem. This is America. You're on your own. I have an iPod. I can't hear you. I'm sure you'll be just fine. Let's not make eye contact.
But then I touched the lamp post and had to turn around. Oh god. This is bad karma. What if they're dying. What if something really interesting, like robbery or rape just happened. What if they're famous.
I was getting closer and their little scene remained the same.
Wait! What if this is one of those Dateline, hidden camera things about how nobody helps anyone anymore. OMG! In addition to my now very strong urge to help these unfortunates, I really don't want to be captured on national television looking like a bitch. Especially in this less than attractive ensemble.
As I neared, the man looked up and seemed to wave at me. I pulled my earphones out.
"Hey, are you guys okay?"
"Ah freend's feeling a beet eel."
Said ill friend then violently vomited all over the side of the overpass wall. Sick! But I could be on Dateline. I maintained my composure. "Do you need help? What can I do?" (I'm a charming American, here to help you in your disgusting time of need.)
"Weah trying to geht a taxi but we've no ideah wheah we ah."
Folks, we're across the street from the Buckeye. You're in good hands. I know the number of the cab company by heart. We called a taxi. I gave them our coordinates. I redeemed myself, just in case I was on Dateline. I felt like Jesus...