I didn’t work yesterday and haven’t yet been home long enough to get my Chik-Fil-A fix, so I went to get some for lunch. This dirty guy with very few teeth approaches my car in the drive-through line and asks me for money, telling me his car was down the road and out of gas and his girlfriend had his credit card. Oookay. I’d seen this man before, last summer, in the same parking lot, with the same story. I give him two quarters, hoping it would make him go beg from someone else and get the hell away from my car. I don’t know how much two quarters will get one in the way of, um, substances, but whatever. Have at it.
So I get my food and go to leave the parking lot and the guy walks right out in front of my car. He comes around to my window and tells me his car is across the street and out of gas. I remind him I gave him fifty cents and that’s all I had for him. And I did laugh, I’ll admit, because he told me his car was in front of a different store this time. But he walks away and I think I’m done with him at least for the day.
I leave the parking lot and go to turn onto the highway. I wait at a red light, make my left turn, and he wanders across the median, right in front of my car, and stops. He stands there for probably thirty seconds, just looking at me. What the hell? I can understand wanting money, but trying to get hit by my car? If you want drugs so badly you’re willing to get hit by a car, you have serious issues.
Yeah, I realize there’s a chance he wasn’t trying to get drugs, but it’s a tiny chance.