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January 04, 2005
New Year's Eve 2
We hit the street armed mostly with alcohol. Spencer the Cat had a cup of Scotch. Emma, Daniel, and I had beers. Daniel had a couple leis and I had my noise maker. I found if you blew into it suddenly, or blew hard with the end covered then suddenly removed the covering (a much better approach) a loud, extremely obnoxious sound would erupt and scare passers-by. Especially if you did it right as they passed.
The yachters must have bought the cheap noise makers because my horn broke after just a block of startling innocent families. I got the the corner of Eastern and President and found no matter how hard I blew my horn made no noise. And perhaps it was a good thing, I would have felt bad blaring my horn into the ear of the guy that pulled up next to me in a wheel chair. "Where can I get some food at around here?"
"That bar over there has food."
"Thanks. I don't care how expensive it is I've got to get me something to eat." he yelled over his shoulder as he sped down the street in his motorized wheelchair, dragging a girl, perhaps 8 or 9 years old, behind. She held on the wheelchair's back handles while her legs flailed in the air behind her only occassionally hitting the ground. We went the other way, our mission: to get to the Harborway Inn to watch that lawyer guy set his face on fire again.
Apparently public intoxication is OK in downtown Baltimore. The police that walked by us less than a yard away only glanced at our bottles. It seemed that, if anything, they wanted to ensure we had enough to get us as drunk as the guy that drove by in the ambulance.
The siren went on and off an and off as a rambunctious EMT (could it really have been an EMT?) played with the switch and alternated between drinking a beer and screaming out the passenger side window.
Now on Pratt Street in front of the convention center I spotted the spinning sculpture. I sprinted over to it and started it spinning. A minute later Spencer joined in. The others arrived followed by the guy in the wheel chair and his the girl who seemed to think she was pushing him.
"Did you get any food?"
"No, they wouldn't let me in cuz a her." (He motioned to the little girl behind his wheelchair.)
"That sucks. Sorry about that."
"No problem. Whachu guys doin' down here."
"Just drinking on our way to a bar."
I asked the little girl if she wanted to spin the sculpture. She said yes. So I hoisted her onto my shoulders and we ran around the sculpture. We got back her uncle, Uncle Pepe, asked if I wanted any bacardi. He had a back pack full of liquor. I took some. He drank some of Spencer's scotch. Spencer thought it was cheap and bad, but he was making it dissappear quickly enough. Still there was some for Uncle Pepe.
Suddenly Uncle Pepe shouted, "Shit. We's got to catch the light rail." Then he dragged his niece down the street.
We passed a part of the convention center with a low roof. "Hop up there Daniel." I said. He took a break from his ribbon dancing - he had ripped apart his pastic leis and was using them as ribbons for what was apparently his until then hidden passion. "Hold these." he said as he passed the ribbons to Emma.
I felt like an adult as I scuttled over to Spencer, somewhere far enough from Daniel to pretend we had no idea who he was. Eventually emma left too. For a second Daniel was left alone atop the convention center. The well light convention center.
Alone until a back packer either helped him or convinced him to come down.
We waited at our adult distance for the two to catch up to us. As soon as they did I realized the back packer was more a bum than an adventurer. The filth, the smell, the missing teeth all helped me to that realization. As did the ensuing conversation:
"You don't have to worry about falling into the water."
"What?"
"The water's back that way."
"Oh."
"Listen, can you spare some change?"
That is the friendly bum approach. Look. I just helped you avoid falling into the water and you should pay me for that. It is much different than the straightforward approach we were greeted with halfway across the street. "Can you spare some change? I swear I won't buy drugs. I don't do no cocaine or nothin'. Just drink."
Spencer gave him a sip of his Scotch.
"Mmmm. That's some good stuff."
Then he took the cup back. Spencer that is.
"Dude. Bum lips touched that cup and you're going to drink out of it again?"
"Bums are people too." Although Spencer doesn't give bums money he seems to think highly of them.
"Besides the alcohol will kill all the freaky bum germs." I added. I am constantly in awe of alcohol's usefullness.
"Can I have a sip." Daniel said before he grabbed the cup away from StC and pour it in the street.
The scent of the scotch must have attracted another helpful bum. "Watch out. The cops just arrested a guy for carrying a bottle. Cuffed him and threw him in the back of the car."
"Oh. We'll be careful."
That was helpful information. I deserve money."Can you spare any change?"
I'm not sure it he said that before or after Emma decided to get rid of her bottle by slamming its contents and throwing the bottle into the street.
Daniel, the guy afraid of bum germs, gave him a dollar and said, "Here's a dollar, but you have to watch me ribbon dance."
"Ok. And if it's good I'll give you your dollar back."
Daniel did his ribbon dance in the street, but the bum said it was only worth about 30 cents.
We hurried up to the Harborway. We were sure Rachel was there already and may have talked the lawyer guy into spitting fire already.
Posted by calculatoronfire at January 4, 2005 04:11 PM