Two stories about men in the street

1). Recently while driving down Western Avenue in Chicago late at night on a cool summer evening, I was forced to swerve out of the way of a shopping cart that was quickly careening toward me. The road had been freshly paved and the shopping cart was being driven by the most exuberant looking man who appeared to be in his mid 40's. He was riding with his feet off the ground, standing on the back ledge of the cart and flying forward with the same glee normally seen in children racing down the aisles of supermarkets.

2). While driving down Chicago Avenue in the middle of the afternoon, I came upon a horrible scene while stopped at a red light. A man was on the ground gripping a cane and was trying to crawl across the crosswalk of the street perpendicular to me. A robust man stood in a doorway just fifteen feet away, looking at this pitiful situation and doing absolutely nothing to help. The man was on his hands and knees. He was moving about an inch a minute. The driver next to me also clearly noticed and did nothing. I quickly determined that if I did nothing, everyone around me was going to keep letting this man crawl. I thought of my father who recently had a stroke. Disgusted, I made a right turn at the light, cut through an alley and rushed to park. I was slowed down by several cars that were still waiting for this man to finish crawling to the other side of the street. One driver honked his horn. Another car couldn't wait for the man any longer and began to turn around. Meanwhile, the man continued to crawl. I got out of my car and ran over to help him to his feet. He was fairly dirty and seemed quite damaged from a hard life. I got behind him and reached under his arms to lift him to his feet. I helped him to a nearby bus bench and made sure he wouldn't slide off. An elderly Ukrainian woman stopped by to see what was going on and seemed somewhat concerned. At this point a cop car rolled up but the cop would not get out of the car to talk to the man or help. The cop insisted, from inside of his car, that the man was drunk. I could smell no alcohol on the man. I asked the man if he thought he was having a medical problem. He uttered "Seizure disease." I relayed this information to the cop, insisted that the man did not smell of alcohol, and suggested he call an ambulance. The cop got on his radio, still without having stepped out of his car, and appeared to be calling for medical help. After making sure that the man was securely positioned on the bench, I told him that I thought the cop was calling an ambulance for him and that he should be really careful because a lot of people just don't give a shit about anyone. At this point - so filled with hatred for the people standing around me and the motherfucking cop that still couldn't get out of his car, I left the scene and continued home. I checked back a half an hour later to make sure that the man was not still on the bench. He was not there and I have not seen him since.

- Marc Fischer