(Also, SWDNYHABN is now known as The Project Manager)
Yesterday evening The Project Manager and I were walking home from the in-laws and I espy a young man, who shall be referred to as 'Sammy', and he is having a good shout! I think, initially, he is having a good shout at a building, and I'm just getting to mention this hilarity to The Project Manager when I notice his chum, who shall be referred to as 'Louie', emerging from an obscured doorway, having just had himself a pee.
Sammy is on the back veranda of the L--- Mansions, an abandoned heritage building down the block, and Louie is the alley, walking roughly parallel to us towards the veranda. As we catch up to him, he climbs on to the veranda to chat with Sammy, and we notice there is a third character.
A third man, referred to as Willy, is lying down, roughly in the fetal position, between them on the veranda, and I get the feeling that
something is not right. I start to slow down to observe this. Now, I have been known from time to time to get involved in things that I should have avoided, and The Project Manager is aware of this, and she does let me know that she's not entirely in favour of me getting involved in this. Anxiety increasing, I think of, and ask, the safest question to ask, which seems to be "Do you need any help?"
Without hesitation, Sammy and Louie announce that in fact Willy does need help, that Willy has thrown up. (In case you're worried, they make no move towards us at all) The Project Manager, eagle-eyed, notices that Willy is in fact bleeding from his nose and somewhere under his hair. I had been wondering whether to call the police in an emergency capacity or in a nuisance-busting one, and this info helps. I decide to escalate this thing to 911.
As I am making sure that 911 knows the whole situation, including the fact that Louie and Sammy are completely hosed, The Project Manager is convincing them that we don't need their help, and if they feel like leaving and not being there when curious people in uniform get there, that'll be just fine thank you, and they leave.
The wee-OOO-wee-OOO-wee-OOO in the distance announce that the uniforms will be here shortly, and 911 signs off with me. In the intervening lull, when it is just The Project Manager, myself, and unconscious Willy, we get a chance to look him over a bit. In fact, he is bleeding heavily, and has bled a great congealous glob of blood onto the concrete of the veranda, and though he is breathing he is not making a great show of it.
First on the scene is the Prairie Metropolis Fire Department, and they are not entirely in the mood to deal with dear passed-out Willy. As one of them guides in the ambulance to where we are, two others leap up onto veranda and banter wittily between each other about what is happening. "Someone is having a nap", one says. "Ha ha ha", says another. This is the kind of wit that keeps you sane in an inner city fire department.
Step one for them is to check if he is just sleeping, which they do by turning his head and looking at him. This is also the first time they get a good look at his face. In a moment, everything changes. All humour disappears, and there is quite a lot of bustling with lights, spinal collars, backboards, and serious faces. Everyone seems very nervous.
There are three paramedics and five firefighters working away on Willy, and they get him strapped and bundled and into the ambulance in about 90 seconds. and they are off and away.
And the Fire Captain, who has been watching this from behind an excellent authoritative mustache, says to The Project Manager and I "if you had not called us, well, you probably saved his life."
So far, judging by the silence on the news, it seems to have been true!
