Tonight, I went downtown with some of the boys. We saw Mike's band, and then left to catch a bite at Dante's Pizza. On the way back into to Chinatown, a homeless man in a wheelchair asked for help. He was trying to put one of his shoes on, and just couldn't seem to do it. Said he was paralyzed. It was rainy, and cold, and there was no way I could say no. I grabbed his shoe, and helped him put it on, then went on my way.
About a block later, someone pointed out that we had somehow acquired a scent not unlike urine.
See where this is going?
Apparently, the gentleman was not just soaking wet from the rain, and he wasn't lying about being paralyzed. Yech.
I was mad at first. Couldn't believe it. Figured it was just my fucking luck for being nice. Decided I'd pass if the opportunity to assist in similar circumstances occurred again. And then I thought about it some more. No matter how ghastly it was for me, that moment was merely one in an endless succession for him. I'm mad because I got piss on me, but I wonder how it
must be for him. He had to have been soaked in it, cold, maybe hungry. Add to that the fact that he was upset at his own inability to even put on his shoes.
I take so much for granted.
