Shot with iphone. Click to Enlarge.
Sure, you expected a gaggle of ga-ga goo-goo shots, right? Sure, there's a ton, so all in due time.
Today was a flood of emotions, good (baby and Momma are safe, happy, well, thanks!) & bad (major family medical issues, a death close to the family, etc) and with the 3 hours of sleep I've gotten, it's been like riding in the very back cart on the Cyclone going full-tilt down the first ...in the rain. Weeeee!
So in the midst of this Dickens-esque day, I got out of the house to take Banzai, who has now become an official "Hound of Hell" a la THE OMEN (which is awesome, I love how protective and gentle she's been to the lil' guy) for a walk on our usual round-the-block route. Her for some fecal evacuation, me for a little head-clearing. Halfway through, I noticed what looked to be a body on the grass, splayed out and motionless. What the hell? This is not the neighborhood where you stumble on the random corpse, but as we got closer, the smell of Tecate beer was thick; this guy was just 3 sheets and climbing. We cautiously approached, Banz and I, and the intoxicated Mexican man looked up, glazed eyes barely locking focus, vomit pouring out of his mouth like Mia Wallace Post-OD, Pre-Heart puncture. He mumbled something as he tried to hold up a porkpie hat, and I just said "...hey man, you OK?"
and he just slumped down again. He was surrounded by about 20 spent beer cans and his bike, as if he was so drunk he could just not pedal anymore and just stumbled on the softest thing he could, some suburbanite's well-landscaped lawn, and his ass wasn't going anywhere.
We walked on, but for some reason, about 50 feet on, Banzai stopped, looking at me with those eyes that said "Pops, we gotta go back"
. So, we walked back, and the drunk Mexican woke again, looking at us as we approached. He tried so hard to talk with me, and i stopped, and tied to decipher his slurred, messy diatribe. What I got was; His name was "Bom"
, and he was looking for Venice and Pacific, which I tried my damnedest to point to him, but since he repeated the question, I think the only thing sinking in was the brews. Bom then told me how he lost his job at Albertsons today and now his house was in jeopardy, and this I guess was his only way to cope, hiding under his hat and in a cloud of cerveza against this tree for as long as possible, groaning and occasionally passing out. My heart was breaking for the guy, and for some reason I was compelled to hand him some cash for his troubles (or maybe for some more beer) but he never asked and i didn't want to insult him. But he just said "Havvv a goo' night mang"
and I did the same.
Walking away, it just put everything into perspective, like finding that star peg and sliding it firmly into the appropriate hole. "Bom"
(if that was his name) didn't answer any questions for me, nor did I really know where Pacific off Venice was so I was no help to him either, but he sure gave me some emotional insight. Things can be great, things can be terrible, at times, they can both be in residence at once. Its how you take it all in, process it, deal with it in the best way possible. I guess that's what it's going to be like being a father. Kinda like being a director.
Sorry to be a bummer, and I promise more sunshine and happiness stat, but in a way, "Bom"
helped me out, and I wish him well, and hope he makes it to wherever his destination is.
Pedal slowly, amigo.