Watching a guy black out in broad daylight is kind of odd. Especially when he doesn't get hit by anything.
Unless, of course, you count the ground as a thing.
The story goes:
I am out on a mini-adventure when I see this guy walking down the sidewalk opposite of me. I've seen him around the neighborhood. He's 40-ish, not all there in terms of brain-togetherness. He's about fifteen yards off and he starts to do this weird little walk. The kind of strange step-save-step that you see people who are about to eat it on ice do - but without the ice.
After a solid ten seconds of strange stepping, the guy does a graceful slam into the pavement. No grunt or thud, just a flop to the ground.
And he starts. . .snoring? Seizing? Either way there is a ton of drool.
I run up, ask him if he's ok, but he's totally unresponsive. Another gentleman, who watched the whole dance from his car, comes out, dialing 911, insisting that I rest fallen-mans head on my knee. Or something.
So I do, the ambulance arrives, and THEN I realize that the guy split the back of his head open on the ground. My hand and jeans are now soaked in his pathogens.
And to think, they were new jeans. That's the last time I buy new clothes.
The ambulance took him off, on a stretcher, lights a-flashing, sirens a-blaring. His name might have been Jacob - but it didn't sound like he was too sure.
Edit - Picture of jeans attached. And for you smart asses out there, I would just like to state that NO! I was NOT dancing with a girl who was on her period.
]
Unless, of course, you count the ground as a thing.
The story goes:
I am out on a mini-adventure when I see this guy walking down the sidewalk opposite of me. I've seen him around the neighborhood. He's 40-ish, not all there in terms of brain-togetherness. He's about fifteen yards off and he starts to do this weird little walk. The kind of strange step-save-step that you see people who are about to eat it on ice do - but without the ice.
After a solid ten seconds of strange stepping, the guy does a graceful slam into the pavement. No grunt or thud, just a flop to the ground.
And he starts. . .snoring? Seizing? Either way there is a ton of drool.
I run up, ask him if he's ok, but he's totally unresponsive. Another gentleman, who watched the whole dance from his car, comes out, dialing 911, insisting that I rest fallen-mans head on my knee. Or something.
So I do, the ambulance arrives, and THEN I realize that the guy split the back of his head open on the ground. My hand and jeans are now soaked in his pathogens.
And to think, they were new jeans. That's the last time I buy new clothes.
The ambulance took him off, on a stretcher, lights a-flashing, sirens a-blaring. His name might have been Jacob - but it didn't sound like he was too sure.
Edit - Picture of jeans attached. And for you smart asses out there, I would just like to state that NO! I was NOT dancing with a girl who was on her period.
]
Blood, shmod, you did a good thing.