So two years ago I was faced with a bit of a moral dilemma when Creepy-Waving-Angry-Piss-Drunk-Pickup Guy neighbor’s speedy, misguided attempt to navigate the corner of 8th Street and 3rd Avenue was abruptly intercepted by my mailbox.
I knew I needed to at least talk with him about it – I didn’t care about the mailbox, but this neighborhood’s lousy with kids. Seriously. In the summertime, this street looks like an Irish ghetto. I don’t want him driving drunk up and down my street.
And, as you may or may not recall, that made me sad because Creepy-Waving-Angry-Piss-Drunk-Pickup Guy was also Bobcat Guy, who often came and cleared my driveway for me. And, as I suspected, the driveway clearage stopped immediately after that conversation.
Flash forward to tonight. Quinn and Molly had just pulled out of the driveway when a knock at the door revealed a slightly wobbly Creepy-Waving-Angry-Piss-Drunk-Taurus Guy. (Same guy. Different vehicle. Come on, keep up with me here, people.)
He sheepishly stammered something about how the corner was really slippery and he’d done it again. Then he turned to leave and staggered awkwardly toward the Taurus that was perched on top of our snow pile, with the lights winking cheerfully toward our front door.
A minute later he was back. With some difficulty, he explained that he’d locked his keys in the car (which, by the way, he’d also left in gear, with the wheels spinning hopelessly in the snow) and he was going to walk home and see if he had a spare pair.
By this point we’d realized that we didn’t have much choice but to involve the authorities – partly because of the real public health risk he posed and partly because he’d rammed the electrical box in our yard half off its concrete footing. (But he missed the mailbox!)
A few minutes later, Sartell’s Finest arrived to find Creepy-Waving-Angry-Piss-Drunk-Taurus Guy trying in vain to unlock his car with a coat hanger (is there any car made in the last 15 years that you can still do that with?) while his poor wife and I looked on patiently.
“Hey, Pissy,” crooned the sweet young Sartell police officer. (She used the familiar version of his real name.) “Whatcha been up to today? Been watching the game?” I truly felt for his wife as I saw her jaw clench and I knew that this had turned into a pretty bad day for her. But honestly – how much worse a day could it have been, given his condition?
He was taken into custody and I’m not sure what will happen. I just know I’ve gotten a solid, healthy wake-up call. And those are probably good things to get every now and then.