A Good Samaritan

 

One night at a bar in the big city, I sat alone drinking and smoking

one cigarette after another. I saw a lady having disagreeable words

with a man who apparently came in together. Upset, the man got up,

left the place never to return.

The lady had one drink after another, and became quite intoxicated.

Feeling sorry for her, I got up from my table, went up to her seated

at the bar, and asked if there was something I could do? Unsteady

and glassy-eyed she replied, I could use a ride home.

Slurring her words, she went on. The son-of-a-bitch who brought

me left me here alone. I don’t have money for a cab. After this drink,

maybe you could take me. Sure, I responded, let me know when you’re

ready.

I thought to myself, sober she would be a pretty woman, but beyond

that, giving her a safe ride home, I had only good intentions. Having

been involved with alcohol and relationships before, I wasn’t about

to leap into that pitfall inferno again. A bit tipsy myself, I was still

sober enough this time not to step over that line. This was strictly

a Good Samaritan Act, and I still had sense enough about me to

leave it at that

Anyway it was a long and dark ride to her place. I had no idea where

she lived, and she passed out off and on while giving me directions.

I thought about my own precarious situation, recently divorced after

seventeen tumultuous years where out of frustration with my situation

alcohol became involved. I’ll bet this lady has her stories of woe to tell.

Lady, shaking her shoulder, I’d ask...Do you know where we are, left

or right? She’d jerk awake, look around and say, take a right, then nod

out again. It went that way for better than a half an hour or so before

we eventually by the grace of god reached our destination. Not being

familiar with the area, I had no idea where we were, and I had to trust

she still had the homing instinct to know where in hell she lived.

Sssstop here, she slurred. That’s my place. Would ja wanna come in and have

a drink, she asked as she fumbled and staggered her way out of the car? No

thanks, have a good night, I had the good sense to answer. No way was I going

to wake up in the morning like her wondering how in I got here, and who in

hell was this person sleeping next to me?

It was dark and I was lost, but I’d take my chances finding my way home.

No way I’d make the same mistake I had made in my marriage before. Hell

fire, that cost me seventeen years of my life, and still I hadn’t found my way.

Left, right or straight ahead into the dark of night? Sober as a goddamn judge,

I ‘d take my chances.

                    -30-

Chris Hanch 11-1-2022