Saved by a Crackhead

Now we've all been approached by crackheads, right? You know they are heading right for you and you know exactly what they want. You don't have crack, they know this, but you have the next best thing, cash. You try to avoid eye contact, but it's too late as you feel the spittle pepper the side of you face from the words, "P-p-please, man, can I_can I have f-five dollas? I j-just want to get some f-food." You're like, "There's a 'Burger King' right here, I'll buy you some food," but apparently they don't have a taste for flame broiled burgers. They say, "Why can't you just give me five dollas?" You might as well just give up at that point, you're not going to get anywhere trying to get through to someone with a one-crack-mind.

This scenario plays out all the time, but when was the last time a crackhead helped you out when you were in a jam? Well, several weeks ago, I was saved by a crackhead. I was heading downtown for poker night at Woody's Tavern, but couldn't find a parking spot. I circled several times with no luck. After a while, I noticed a car pull into a lot close by and park, so I decided to park there as well, allthough there were gates around the lot, but they were all open. There were several cars in the lot and I didn't see any signs that said you couldn't park there, so I figured it was okay.

After several hours, I returned to find that the gates had been closed and my truck was trapped inside. I was trying to figure a way out when I saw a car trying to get out through one of those swinging-arm type gates. A passenger in the car was able to get out and lift the gate just enough for the car to slide by and set the car free. I then pulled up to the gate knowing my truck was a lot higher than the car that just barely squeezed out.

It was looking grim when out of nowhere, a crackhead comes sprinting over. He had noticed what was going on from about fifty yards away. Out of breath he says, "Hang on, man, I got you." With super-crack strength, he lifts the gate over his head, knees wobbling from the exertion, the gate was now just high enough for my truck to make it through. I was free and grateful and I thanked him.

Before I pulled away, I thought I would offer him a few dollars for the help, but before I could even offer he asked right away, "You think you could give me some change?", and by change he meant five dollars. I said, "Sure," and reached in my wallet and pulled out a five which was stuck to another five. I separated the bills and handed one to him. At this point, he saw further opportunity and asked, "Man, how about just giving me that five, too? Come on! Please?" So, without hesitation, I handed over the other five. The old crackhead was satisfied and delighted, he said, "Thank you, man! I love you!", and he gave me a hug. I thanked him for his help and headed on my way home greatly relieved. One man's pursuit of crack had saved my day.