Faster Than a Hobo Can Hand-Roll a Few Discarded Butts Into a Smokable Cigarette

Ye Olde Traff-O-Matic Detector

Of course people you must know that all too often the things that happen in our lives aren't always quite what they seem to be from a first glance. The so called "conspiracy theorists" and their "tinfoil hat-wearing" believers are sometimes proven to be correct in the end... after the truth finally comes out in the wash. Sometimes, the great leaders of men around the globe really are engaged in some hidden, diabolical agenda who would love nothing more than to see you  squirming helplessly under their thumbs.

Just now, I learned from the radio that the world price for gold has risen yet again, this time by ten bucks or so, to $1626.90 / ounce. While I'm hardly qualified to even try to forecast what this could possibly mean for the average working slob, other than being an average working slob myself, I think it safe to presume that gold's fervor probably won't mean the price of an ice cream cone will be coming down anytime soon. I've heard some pinstripes suggest that a similar unprecedented rise in the Pound Sterling may soon trail it's cousin in the periodic table due to their natural and historic ratios and whatnot.

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I had overheard the cackling crew partying behind the bins at the outdoor recyclables depot earlier in the afternoon, and the hootin' hobos were still hollering by the time I went out for my evening walk after the nightly downpour I've now come to half expect from this summer in Edmonton.

When people tell me that they're non-judgmental, I can hardly stop myself from laughing. Everyone's judgmental to some degree, especially when they meet someone for the first time. This, as we know, is often referred to as a first impression.

As I'm sure I need not point out, Dear Reader, a first impression is something formed out of our learned stereotypes; elementary notions we then qualify or reject against certain experiential indicators. How is this person is dressed? How does their physical countenance measure-up? What sorts of behaviours are they exhibiting? What sorts of things are they saying, and how are they responding to my personal inquiries? One should keep in mind that a first impression is only as good as the person forming it. While some folks can be quite impressive in their ability to make accurate predictions about others, most of us should probably know that people can always surprise us by their actions or experiences.

Being a dab hand at sizing people up faster than a hobo can hand roll a few discarded butts into a smokable cigarette, I was not in the least surprised by what was about to come my way. Barreling toward me from across the street after bursting from the hedgerows surrounding the recycling depot (really just two rows of categorized dumpsters with a lane-way between for vehicles) was this rotund, middle-aged woman, dressed mostly in black, and carrying a purse. Her attire was relatively clean, and more suited to a job interview than a bush party. Her dangling earrings would suggest to me that she was probably out looking to get shagged...

"Excuse me! Excuse me, Sir!" she was shouting in my direction as I languidly walked by with my dogs, quite effectively interrupting my moment of serenity with my K-9 cohorts. Using my extraordinary powers of perception, I almost immediately ascertained that she was both reckless and intoxicated. Reckless because she was almost staggering as she crossed the street diagonally toward me, instead of using the marked intersection only a few steps away, and intoxicated, I presume, because she was emerging from an impromptu gathering of local homeless folk that had been carrying on a malt liquor party for at least several hours.

As she got closer to me and the doggies, she asked me to call her a cab.

"Okay... you're a cab!", I provoked.

"No, no..." she plunged her fat, clumsy finger into the palm of her other hand as though to indicate dialing a number. It's doubtful whether she could have even dialed something as simple as 911 in her current state.

"No, no! Kin you PHONE me a caaahb? A tax-eee!", she whiningly burbled.

"I'm afraid I cannot, Miss, for you see, I have not a mobile phone in my possession," I responded truthfully.

"Well den, how fahr is your plaaaace?" she ruefully inquired.

"Oh, I live on the other side of the river," I lied.

"Kin I walk wit you den?"

Why me? Why this wretched looking gaudy old woman and not some gorgeous young lady with a vocabulary that spans more than an inflection beyond the monosyllabic?

I'd like to point out that even if I did happen to have a cell phone, you can bet that I wouldn't be using it to call this hapless woman a taxi unless she could first demonstrate to my satisfaction that she had enough money to pay the driver the fare. Whenever I call a taxi from my land-line at home, they show up like Johnny on the spot because they know they can expect at least a modest tip from the likes of my friends and I. Enough fruitless calls from a telephone number to pick-up undesirables and it won't be long before your digits are blacklisted by the company's dispatch. Once upon a time I used to drive taxi myself, and nothing would make my blood boil like a fare dodger who not only wastes my time, but also my motor fuel.

Anyway, the poor woman was quickly losing her battle against gravity and managed to almost gracefully collapse under an old tree after no more than a few dozen steps along my route. Her glasses were coming apart, and her incoherence was beginning to mildly irritate me.

I suggested a pay-phone a few blocks away, but all she could seem to do was to uselessly fiddle with the broken arm of her designer eye wear. A feeble-looking exercise it was. It was as though this woman was thinking that the snapped-off arm of her glasses would somehow magically reattach itself to the edge of the specs... if she only believed strongly enough.

As irksome as I was finding this whole unwanted encounter to be, I'm not an entirely heartless bloke, and I feel a certain responsibility to strive to be more compassionate and to do whatever I can to be a good citizen. Obviously, just ignoring her wasn't an option. As ill-prepared and irresponsible as she seemed to be, this woman is probably someone's mother, or even grandmother. Perhaps her decision to engage in an impromptu drink-up with the downtown riffraff was just a one-off; she certainly didn't strike me as being especially mean or vindictive, but as I said, people can surprise you for better and for worse. Having noticed a few youngsters smoking weed or something on the park benches nearby, I approached.

"I was wondering if any of you might have a mobile phone to call this woman a cab," I suggested, "she seems a little pissed-up, and she tells me that her phone's out of juice. Can you help?"

That's right. She told me her cell phone "died." As I've frequently pointed out in this blog, I've never had a cell phone in my life. No sympathy here. at least on that front. If I can live without a mobile phone, so can just about anyone.  Nothing against people who use iPHONES or Nokias or the likes, Me, I'd just rather not feeling at though I need to depend on having one of these insidious devices at all. Having a mobile computer phone should just be a little bonus tool in my books, or for emergencies. Videotaping police brutality and whatnot. Not the seeming necessity it seems to be for so many. I think that for me, a cell phone would end up becoming more of an irritant than anything.. always ringing.

I do, however, have a little video camera that I sometimes bring out with me on walks, and I always make sure to account for its battery life. Ladies and Gents, when it comes to your cellulars- when you're out partying on the town, maybe it's not the best idea to spend two hours talking cosmetics with cousin Rita, and using up valuable minutes while you wait for service at some restaurant that would rather not have you there in the first place? Unless you have a cord and somewhere to plug your little telecommunication lifeline in for a recharge, save those minutes for when you really need them! That would be my advice. 

Anyhow, one of the fellows I approached for help in the park then borrowed his companion's cell phone and went to attend to the many needs of this heap of a woman. With that, my conscious was clean. I effectively passed the buck and thus freed myself to carry on with my business of self-reflection and walking the dogs.

Please keep in mind, Dear Reader, that in no way am I attempting to convey any sense superiority here; be it moral, ethical, or otherwise. Lord knows I've made some incredibly stupid and impulsive decisions over the years. I really hope I'm not sounding like too much of a jerk, but the thing  that gets me with this story is mostly the question of Miss "Bush Party's" age. She was being slightly aggressive and overly familiar with me. Did not this drunken "Lady Na Na", as it were, demonstrate a highly serious lack of foresight in arranging for her own transport? Especially when taking into consideration how old she is? I mean, seriously, she's no longer a sixteen year-old during a high school dance here.

This strange woman: asked me where I live within the first twenty seconds of speaking with her, and seemed to covet my two dogs... fair enough. She spent her afternoon getting drunk, and had a half-baked story about her backpack being at one of the local casinos. Hey, I've done sort-of similar things when I'm punched-out on the liquor, things I'm sure my friends wouldn't contest. In the first ninety seconds of meeting her for the first time, this woman made the presumption that I carried a cell phone, asked where I live, and wanted to walk with me? How dare she?

"Sure. I don't see why not," I said. She didn't see me roll my eyes!

I wasn't too worried about feeding her or anything, because she most certainly wasn't emaciated or without some kind of means... judging by the size of her purse. Quite to the contrary, she looked to me as though she might have been struggling for some time with a serious addiction to the KFC. KFC addiction can happen to just about anyone... especially good KFC. Mmmmm. She told me she was from outside of town.

All that mean and cruel stuff being said, she is of course a cherished fellow human being with hopes and problems like anyone else, but I've got my own worries, lady. More and more I tend to see the value in erring on the side of caution when  it comes to strangers in this city. I didn't get a very good first impression of this cow, and figured that the darn hussy can sleep it off under a pine tree for all I care! It's not like it's winter and the ground is frozen! Surely this wasn't the first time she's had to con her way out of trouble! Casinos & book-bags, oh my!

Of course in the end, I hope she's no worse for wear, and that also she made it home alright, but lady... think next time!