driving to work at 730 this morning, i see a man stumbling across my block with a ziploc bag containing an ice pack held up to his face, obscuring his left eye. he’s late fifties, early sixties and sporting disheveled hair with a mean 10 o’clock shadow.
me, yelling from car window as i slow down: sir, are you okay?
him: (continues to stagger, zig zagging across the street, not responding to my inquiry)
me, now stopped 10 feet away from him: sir, ARE YOU OKAY??
him, looking up at me confused and irritated as he pulls the bag away from his face: what???
me, perplexed by his anger: i was wondering if you were okay? do you need help?
him, even angrier than before: yeah, i’m fine. do YOU need help?!
me, as i realize it is not an ice pack in the bag but his fucking cell phone and he was in the middle of a call: no, i’m okay, thanks (hits accelerator hard).
immediate internal monologue as i drive away: it’s 65 degrees out and sunny. why is your cell phone in a plastic bag? ugh… i am an idiot.
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