The following story happened to me in the summer of 2003. I am not normally one to help bums I see on the street. Having grown up in Chicago and attending University on the South Side, being approached by these people was almost a daily occurrence and I was desensitized to their plight. One night, however, I let my guard down. Though it was perhaps one of the most interesting nights of my entire life, it was incredibly stupid and I probably deserved to get raped and killed. But I seem to be a pretty lucky guy most of the time, and interesting stuff just happens to me.
It was after 2AM and I was driving back from my friend’s house in Chicago Ridge. For those unfamiliar with the geography of Chicago, this is a pretty long drive, over 25 miles. I was working as a summer camp tutor at the time and I had to be awake in less than five hours to go to work. Less than a block from my house, a man comes running out into the middle of the street in front of my car and motions for me to roll down the window. This being 2AM on the South Side of Chicago, I choose against it and instead honk my horn for the bastard to get out of the way. He is indignant, however, and the guy was saying “please,” so I just rolled down the fucking window because I was tired and wanted to go home. He goes off on some tirade about how he and his wife are trying to get to the 47th street L Station but his wife is too tired to keep walking and he really needs a ride to the station and would I please bring him there. I tell him no way but I’ll give him a buck if he wants. He says he doesn’t need money, he just needs a ride. So I tell the guy I really need to get some sleep and go to work. By this point his wife comes over, and I’m surprised he actually did have a wife, and he said he promised to buy me some chicken wings if I gave him and his wife a ride to the 47th street station. I was tired, hungry, and obviously not thinking straight so I tell them to get in the car. The station is only 2 miles away and I can be home and asleep in 10 minutes.
So I take him down 47th street, and we’re almost there when he tells me to pull over at this little jazz club. Now, I’m an open minded guy, and I’m not really afraid to drive through any neighborhood in Chicago at night, but the key word there is drive through. And I’m not too open minded to know that a white guy on 47th street at 2:30AM is bound to draw attention. The guy says he promised to buy me some chicken wings and he’s bound to keep his promise, blah blah blah. I plead with the guy to just go to the damn station, I don’t need any chicken wings (even though I was hungry), but he lays the guilt trip in hard. So I go walking into this jazz club with this guy and his wife. It wasn’t like the entire club went dead upon my entering, but I certainly turned the eye of everyone in that place a couple of times. A live band was playing in a dingy little corner, and the sweatiest drummer I’d ever seen in my life was pounding away on those drums like he had been tripping speed for the last 17 weeks. My new friend ordered a plate of chicken wings and a round of beers (Note: I was not even 21 at this time, but it didn’t really matter in this neighborhood). The wife had still not said a thing, and I was so tired that up until that point I hadn’t even realized that she was white also. “Well I’ll be damned” I said out loud. What? Oh, nothing nothing, I said.
So the guy goes into his whole life story. He claims he was a phD candidate at the University of Wisconsin, Madison, but for whatever reason he was kicked out and ever since then he hadn’t been able to find any work. He was down visiting a relative, he had to get back to Madison but didn’t have any money. Honestly, I wish I could remember better what he was saying, but I was tired and my brain was on a bit of a time lag and I was only starting to realize what the hell I was doing. The guy kept on talking, but all I could hear was the rat-a-tat-tat pounding of the speed-addled drummer. Some guy came up to me and asked if he could have a ride to the station too, but I politely declined. We must have stayed there about half an hour. To the guy’s credit, he did pay for the chicken wings, but I had to pay for the beers. The chicken wings were pretty good.
We walked out of the club, I gave the guy a ride to the station, and then went home. The entire time his wife never said a single word. The man said “Thank you, God will bless you one day when you least expect it.” I fell asleep about 4 and called in sick the next day. I never told anyone this story because I knew they would just say “Jesus the guy could have raped you and killed you, what the hell were you thinking?” and I knew I didn’t have an answer to that question, so I never bothered. Perhaps the only answer I can think of is that the world is a mysterious place, and around each corner the potential for a unique adventure is waiting. I certainly wasn’t in the mood for adventure at the time, but sometimes it just seems to find me. It’s like a game of poker. Sometimes you call a bluff with nothing, but your nothing still wins. Was it a stupid call? Well, if you look only at statistics and averages, then yes it was. But you still won, so ultimately it wasn’t a stupid call. Sometimes it’s just dumb luck.