The Young Man with No Pants
So, when you drove by the car caught caddy-whompus in the snow drift and our private drive this morning, your headlights shown a head bobbing down. I went down there to inspect after your tail lights left me. A betting man would wager against me going into the dark, but the snow and a new year do funny things to a man’s brain.
Also, I thought this somebody was either stuck in the snow drift, in need of medical attention or just plain scared. I thought maybe it was a woman. I don’t know why, but I was compelled to help. The whipped topping was I thought they saw me and I couldn’t just run back inside, closing the door behind.
I put my jacket hood on and bulked up, approached the car. I went to the left hand side, the side that wasn’t as snow drifted. I couldn’t see much from the position I was at, definitely didn’t see a head bob, so I just casually spoke “Do you need help?” into the black interior. I then noticed t he driver’s side window was cracked a bit so I went around and said a little louder than before, “Do you need help?”
A half-grunted, undistinguishable reply came from a man’s voice inside. Not one to fully relay the exact in a repeat performance, especially a third time, as one can always get it better the second time and with the third it’s usually something different, something that can easily have the volume be raised, I did my best and repeated what I said in the first and second, “Do you need help?” There was another grunt. Of course, I said, “What?”
Adjusting to the interior black and a bit of rustling of that inside, I could make out a man laying in the driver’s seat, positioned in the full recline, to where his back half was in the back seat. His only companions a blanket and obvious hangover. He said, not really said, but slurred, “Just sleeping.” And I said, “OK.” Immediately I realized this man indeed was hung over. He was a young man, maybe mid-20s. He had crashed both his car and himself for the night, in the private drive near my home. Or, maybe he either parked for the night and immediately fell asleep, or just got stuck. It isn’t too uncommon for people to park in the private drive. I then thought about how I would never crack my window in this neighborhood after dark. I would never sleep in my car after dark too.
After my “OK” to his seemingly OK (“Just sleeping” always equals “OK” to me), I went back inside the house and locked the door. I felt good about being brave and at least trying to offer my assistance. But for the next two hours I was not brave, as I waited for the infamous David Cummings* knock and “Let me in!” at the back door. I knew eventually, by eyeballing the car’s situation and the young man’s state, he would be in need of some help. I sat in the living room, a little tense. I intended watching the rest of a movie before venturing outside, but felt uncomfortable drowning out the sounds (door knocks especially). I chose to catch up on my reading, in a low light and in the quiet, waiting for something to happen or my ears to perk. About two hours passed, with nothing more than the sound of my cats thumbing the kitchen cabinets and the coffee percolator. Both sounds were like knocks and door handle grips.
At around 8am, I heard the sound whining of a car in struggle. I looked out the front window (for the umpteenth time) to see the young man upright in his car and trying to move. He had managed to unstuck the back half a little bit, but the front tires spun out in slick ice in the middle of the drive. I put my boots and coat on and exited my home with the shovel for immediate roadside assistance. The young man obliged.
No luck. The ice was too thick-slick. It always looks like it would be so darn easy to move a car out of such a situation. It is not. I remembered having a hatchet, maybe even seeing it recently, but I didn’t know where and I didn’t wish to tear the basement apart. Instead of bringing this hatchet up in the conversation, I managed to get some snow out from under the car with my shovel and help push a little bit on the car while he revved its pony.
I then noticed the man had no pants on, just boxer shorts, and kept fidgeting with his phone and something under a blanket in his passenger seat. I found this unusual, but I didn’t want to keep looking. I didn’t know what was under his blanket. Maybe drugs? I don’t think it was a gun. Maybe he was trying to find his pants? Yes, that had to be it. I couldn’t help but think about how sleeping with no pants through a Midwest winter night in the teens isn’t my idea of a good time. I also thought about how I wasn’t like most teens. And how this guy was a teen to me.
Pants or no pants, he didn’t care about his appearance or choice of comfort for the evening, now morning. But, he seemed like he had done this before. Or, he had quite a few too many to care this early. He was also very thankful for me to try to help get his car out. I didn’t know what else to do or say, as it was stuck good and kept spinning on ice. It also looked like he banged up his front fender, possibly when he parked-crashed for the night? While examining the situation more, I wondered how I would exit it gracefully.
With relief I see that the neighbor has come out to help because he had just started his car. Before I could say, “Oh, hi!” the neighbor literally slipped head over heels (yes, in that cartoon way) on a patch of black ice, landing flat on his back. The young man in the car and I are both hanging our mouths open and immediately asked if he is “OK?” He lay for a bit to catch his breath and life. I stood over him, not knowing if I should help him up or get per medical reasons, or start to dial the digits. So, I casually extended my hand in a somewhat offering of “I’m here if you need me.”
Thankfully, he was able to get up and thankfully did not hit his head (I asked). But, he landed on his back hard. He is OK. He might be sore though. Anyway, after shaking off the fall, he assessed the situation and also determined that it was a tough one. He mentioned going to get a bucket of salt/ice melt. The young man in the car with no pants on half-slurred out, “Oh, that’s OK. Thanks. You guys are really nice. I mean, really. Don’t worry. I can get it.”
I asked him if he had friends to call and he said that he just called them. I wanted to ask him if he had pants to wear, but I think he didn’t notice that I noticed and/or could see through windows. So, I went back inside the house and thought that the neighbor was going to scratch on the ice melt. Inside, I still looked out the window just in case I was needed.
Through the house walls I heard the neighbor come out the back of his house and walk pass mine. I probably seemed spy-sleazy, but I opened up the back door to ask if he was OK after falling. He said yes and that he had a bucket of salt/ice melt to see if that would help with the ice. I went out with the neighbor. He reminded me to grab my shovel and I said “OK.” The young man in the car obliged again and after a few minutes the ice melt did its job as I pushed on the back end of the car.
The young man with no pants took off, thanking us again.
-djg
* The story of David Cummings is a soon to be published encounter from Oct. 2008.