I am either still drunk or have entered a parallel universe: It is, 9 minutes later, POURING DOWN RAIN.
I step off the last flight and open the door to the lobby.
Great. There are people in it.
"My air unit got struck by lightening ... I am too hot!" Bitched this old woman.
"The stairs are slippery and I am already injured," squeeled a smokey woman. There was something about this woman that made her "bitching" o.k. I didn't really take it as bitching ... I kinda wanted to help.
Don't ask why ... It's a Jewish thing.
"Ummmmmm sir?" Said a familiar voice. Guess who ...
No really ... just guess.
Yes.
"Hey fat boy, I was first!" bullied a skinny middle aged man that looked widowed. How? He was wearing a stained white shirt. Any good woman would give share the "bleach solution" with their significant other.
"Oh, sorry sir. I'm about to leave ... promise. I am actually meeting a friend to go to his grandma's for Friday night dinner soo uh... I really need to talk to the tenant real quick." Jeb turns back towards the front deskman.
HE TOO STARTS BITCHING.
I don't interrupt him though. I'm too enthralled with the crippled stranger.
I check her out from her mismatched boots (one medical and one galosh) to her American Spirits enlarging her rearend all the way up to her swollen, solomn face.
Shit, I don't know what the hell she needs. A new face or a new foot? Or a body gaurd? Or just a friend. A lover? Or a caretaker. Her dad? Or a man ... like me?
An old woman walks in through the front door with her little bitch dog; They are both drenched.
"Lady," starts the front deskman. G-d he's such a putz.
Poor thing ... she can't even hear. She continues walking towards to stairwell.
"LADY! THERE'S NO DOGS ALOUD IN HERE LADY!" screams the putz.
The poor bube stops dead in her tracks and looks down at her dog.
"I am sorry sir ... III I didn't remembmer ... I'm getting ablebuddle ... please ... let me atleast dry him off ... He may catch cold ..." says the old woman.
At this, a hurried bitch steps on her dog's tail in hopes of catching the old woman's taxi.
The dog takes off leaving a trail of water throughout the lobby.
The front deskman leaves his post and chases the dog all the way down the hall. The bube hobbles along behind him.
Everyone at the front desk starts to bicker, except the crippled stranger. In an attempt to get herself out of the situation she back- hobbles right into the dog's puddle.
She slipps.
At that instant, I finally woke up ... over hung my hangover: I instantly reacted by going to break her fall.
And that I did.
Except in the process, I took Jeb down with me ... or on top of me.
How am I still alive? NOOOO idea.
The girl lets out a little squeel. It was strangely adorable.
An oldman offers a hand to her. She recieves it kindly and struggles to get her footing. She's up.
She then extended her hand for Jeb along with a smile.
Jeb excepts, then starts to conversate with my stranger.
I am still on the floor ... The puddle has started to settle into my pants.
Awesome.
Thankg-d for this girl, for she didn't forget about me. She pushes Jeb aside ever so slightly with her bony fingers and extends her hand.
"Thankyou ... what a mitzvah." The girl said with a smile.
I study her characters looking for a sign of anything jewish. She has no oversized nose ... no stereotypical features. But this word ... this was a sign.
"What's your name?" I ask ignoring her thanks.
"Marie ... Marie Voulez."
There is nothing Kosher about that name. But I don't really care.
