The day following my escapade I decided I should go to the hospital and make sure I was alright. I could hardly speak, and my body felt really tense. After work, I walked down to Beth-Israel Hospital and talked to the emergency room folks.
Always interesting in the hospitals is the other patients. While waiting for an x-ray to confirm I had no hidden spine/neck injuries, I met a guy who was in a bad place. He had come into Manhattan to go drinking with a friend (this was a Tuesday), but then he had a lot of pain in his leg. So he checked into the hospital, and his friend, who was drunk, abandoned him to return to Long Island.
The guy didn’t drink today because he recently became a born again Christian: he had a book about the bible to prove it. About the bible. He also had black tears tattooed near his eyes, which I guess proves that he was born again. He started talking to me about how he needed money to get home on the train, and blah blah blah. I talked to him for a bit, but didn’t give him any money. I soon after left the hospital, x-rays ensuring that I was fine.
This Saturday morning, I was walking to the Chinatown bus to go to Philadelphia, when who should I see but my born again Christian friend crying black tears. He walks up to me, “Hey man, I need ten dollars to take the China bus to Philly…” Familiarity drew me to talk to him, and when he noticed me looking towards him he kept talking, “Can you just help me out with a dollar or …”
“Do you remember me?” I interruputed him.
“Huh?”
“We were in the hospital together. I got knocked off my bike.”
“Oh yea, man. I just got out again,” he showed me signout papers from a different hospital. “And my girlfriend just kicked me out of my apartment, so I’m trying to take the China bus to philly to make some money with my friends this weekend and…”
I gave him a dollar. Pretty foolish, considering I now had proof that he was always asking for money to go places, but never getting anywhere.