Indian Guys Are Tough

I walked out of Real Change to plug my parking meter and there was an Indian guy leaning against a tree puking. I didn't think anything of it. Another day in Belltown.

He was sitting in the middle of the sidewalk with his legs out kind of screaming when I came back. There was a handful of Cheeze-it crackers at the base of the tree. I'd seen wrong. He didn't throw up. He'd just spit out his snack. I asked if he was OK.

"My ankle's broken."

Do you want to go to a hospital? I could call an ambulance?

"My brother's coming. He's just in West Seattle. He'll be here in twenty minutes."

Do you want anything while you're waiting?

"Water. I have some Advil."

I got him something from the water cooler and set a folding chair in the middle of the sidewalk. Declining an offer of help he pulled himself up and sat down. I went inside to catch up on book keeping. Staff kept and eye out while he waited.

I was entering deposits when Dana came in. "He's says he's taken four OxyContin."

Shit. No wonder he seemed OK.