city life
the man was clearly dead. yet after learning of his fate, the two onlookers giggled uncontrollably and agreed it was a great way to start the day.
who knew the prospect of death could be so funny?
it all begins that morning as they drive past the library in the small rural missouri town. their thoughts are focused on parking the car and going for a walk that will produce 6,000+ steps.
they are used to seeing odd things on trips into town and today is no exception.
upon entering town, they see the trailer park guy making a beer run to the gas station via his electric wheelchair. that in and of itself is not odd, since he is a thirsty man who ventures out on a regular basis, regardless of weather or traffic.
today, however, he is traveling via the street instead of the sidewalk. sure, he has no choice but to risk life and limb when traveling on the state highway, but why do it here in town? why not use the sidewalk?
the walkers soon find out. the driver notices the sidewalk to his left is blocked by the body of a man lying face down on his right side. limp. motionless. surely dead.
and yet, there are three other men standing over him chatting about who knows what, seemingly oblivious to the corpse at their feet.
the driver slows down, stares, looks away and then stares again.
“what the hell?”
the car is still moving forward slowly but the driver brings it to an abrupt stop. his right foot is obedient to the urgent message from the brain: stop!
did he really see what he just saw? a dead guy and three clueless onlookers standing idly by?
he puts the car in reverse and backs up to get yet another look, but his companion is confused.
“what are you doing? what’s wrong?”
the woman is unaware of the sidewalk scene because she has been fixated on a sign in front of the funeral home across the street. a man died and the service is saturday at 11 am.
“i think that guy back there is hurt.”
“what?”
“back there—some guy’s laying on the sidewalk.”
after the car comes to a stop, the situation is confirmed: one man is lying lifeless on the ground while the other three are standing next to him and doing…nothing.
now it is the passenger’s turn to see, process and react to the absurd scene. like the driver, she is confused and concerned.
“what the hell?”
the driver opens the car door and gets out, his legs lurching forward with a sense of urgency. somebody needs help and it is pretty clear no one else is going to come to his aid.
“is everybody okay?”
the muffled conversation between the three men ends when they see and hear the approaching stranger. one of them reaches up, takes off his hat and uses it to shield his eyes from the sun to get a better look. the other two are also staring, both through mirrored sunglass lenses.
all three look confused and concerned.
they do not seem receptive to the stranger’s question or his presence. but their body language is communicating even more. to them, he is like someone who knocks on your front door despite the “no soliciting” sign.
after a few seconds of silence, the man with the hat speaks on behalf of the group.
“yeah…everything’s fine.”
the response is short and a bit on the testy side. their confusion and concern seems to be turning to anger.
who are you and what’s your problem?!
but the stranger—compelled by an unyielding desire to be merciful—decides to repeat the question. he, too, finds himself getting angry, but for different reasons.
for god’s sake, somebody needs to help this poor man!
“is everybody okay?”
after more awkward silence, a different spokesperson responds. but before he does the man’s right hand reaches up, pulls off his sunglasses and leans forward to better emphasize his point.
he—not the other two men at his side—is apparently the alpha male of the group. while he allowed one of the others to respond to the first question, now it is his turn.
“yeah…like we said…everything is fine.”
even though this response is nearly identical to the first, it is different in terms of tone and delivery. the first was defensive and testy, but this one is defiant and smells like the foul breath of a playground bully who is all grown up.
who are you and what’s your problem?!
conflict seems imminent, but the urge to be merciful is still too strong so the stranger speaks a third time. sometimes the bullied must fight back, and this is one of those times.
“are you sure?”
more silence follows and, incredibly, is more awkward than ever before. conflict is no longer imminent, it has arrived.
but then it happens: the dead man’s head tilts up to make eye contact with the stranger and reinforces what has already been said, not once but twice.
“yeah. everything’s fine.”
no expression, no anger, no emotion, nothing. just telling it like it is.
the “dead” guy then returns to his previous position, lying face down on his right side, limp and motionless. not hurt. not even dead.
it is now clear he is merely being diligent in the execution of his job duties: peering into a sewer drain.
the stranger then notices two of the men are wearing neon-colored tee-shirts and orange reflective vests. he also sees a nearby truck with the city’s logo on the driver’s side door. below it are the words, “public works department.”
relief washes over him.
the “dead” guy is fine, just doing his job. something to do with the sewer system.
but relief quickly turns to amusement and the stranger can no longer control his emotions. not only is the “dead” guy not dead, not only are the man’s coworkers innocent of any wrongdoing, not only is he not going to get his ass kicked, the whole situation is freaking funny.
“i thought he was dead!”
the stranger bends over and puts his hands on his knees as reality kicks in. confusion, concern and conflict have, indeed, been replaced with something infinitely better: humor. now reassured, he stands upright again, this time sporting a big smile.
“ha! i thought he was dead!”
the three men are visibly relieved at what they hear and see, even the alpha male. apparently, no one wants to pick a fight. not really.
crisis averted. there will be no confrontation today.
and then, like their accuser, the men’s relief turns to amusement. they begin chuckling at the thought of how odd and alarming their sidewalk scene must look like to anyone driving by.
“yeah, we kick him every once in a while to make sure he’s okay.”
everyone is laughing now except, of course, the “dead” guy who is still motionless and staring down the sewer drain. just doing the job. somebody has to.
it feels good to laugh, in part because it is so unexpected. the heat and threat of conflict—heated words and punches thrown—are now a distant memory. the surge of endorphins is healing.
yet, the moment passes quickly—too quickly--and it is now time to get on with the day. after deciding to return to being a driver who will soon be walking, the stranger ends the conversation on a familiar note.
“i thought he was dead!”
shaking his head and still smiling, he waves goodbye, walks back to the car and slides in beside his companion. the passenger has waited patiently for news on the injured man.
“what happened? what’s going on?”
“ha! i thought he was dead, at the very least hurt badly. he wasn’t moving, but those other guys were just standing there doing nothing.”
“is he okay?”
“yeah, he’s fine. ha! it turns out he was just looking down into a sewer drain. he works for the city”
as the two drive off, the car is filled with giggling. now there are six people in on the joke, a memory that will no doubt be told many times in years to come.
who knew the prospect of death could be so funny? what a great way to start the day.
after parking the car, the walkers begin their quest for 6,000+ steps. despite the heat and humidity, the walk is a pleasant one, in large part because it was preceded by their encounter with the “dead” man.
after returning to the car, they crank up the ac and begin the short drive back home. as they approach the library, they look over at the sidewalk, but the play is over and the actors are gone.
they look to the left and see the trailer park guy in his electric wheelchair driving down the street with a parade of cars following behind. a 12-pack of busch beer is sitting on his lap.
“we should really walk in town more often.”