Last night was Blues Jam. It was a quiet one, as often happens in summer. And although that disappointed a few people, the musicianship was on a decent level and fun was had by just about everyone. Also, as it turned out, I am very glad the bar was not full by the end of the evening.
I was driving. Since the accident, I am more aware than usual of things on the right-hand side of the car. Yeah, especially big, fast trucks that might want to jump out of the sky and crash into me. That's the only reason I can come up with for noticing the man on the side of the road, when Hubby did not.
He was lying in the ditch, his head resting in the gravel just a few inches from the line marking the edge of the road.
Hubby called 911 even before he reached the man. Fortunately, he was only passed out on the side of the road. He jumped up and started staggering away, arguing with Hubby.
"I'm not passed out, I'm on my way home."
Hubby explained that yeah, he was on his way home, and he should get in our car. But the guy was not having it. He was sure the police were coming, and equally sure that he was not all that drunk, he was just fine, Hubby didn't have to help him, everything was cool, he was not passed out or even sleeping on the side of the road, he was "just pissed off, so I left."
Hubby kept trying to get the guy to get in our car, as I slowly drove behind them with my hazard lights on. And I could tell: this guy was definitely not going to listen to Hubby. You could just see it in him:
"No way is this guy gonna tell ME I'm too drunk to walk home. I'm FINE."
He was oblivious. I don't think he even saw my car, behind him. And that is when it hit me: I have a secret weapon.
I leaned out the window and as sweetly as I could I said, "Hi, hon, can I give you a ride?"
"Sure. OK." And he hopped right in, as fast as Hubby could get the door open for him.
Turns out it was his 32nd birthday, and he'd been drinking since before noon, and had gotten into some sort of tiff at the bar we'd just left. It was a little after 1 a.m. He'd gotten about halfway home before settling, somehow, in the ditch by the side of the road.
Times like that, you don't need a man to help you. You don't need some guy making you feel like a lonely drunk on his birthday. What you need, maybe, is a woman.
I'm glad we were there.