I remembered this anecdote the other day, so thought I should share it.
About five years ago I picked up a couple of drunk gentlemen from one of the better known hostelries frequented by alcoholics in the West End of Morecambe.
They asked me to go to Sandylands Promenade (a mostly lovely place, with fantastic views of Morecambe’s famous sunsets) to drop them both off.
When we got there, the gentleman in the front seat settled up, while the chap in the back seat dragged himself of the car, slammed the door, staggered away and disappeared.
We quickly realised where he had gone. He had fallen over in the road behind the taxi, splitting his head open in the process. He was unconscious too. I called 999 and followed instructions from the operator, to make the man comfortable while we waited for the ambulance.
They told me that the ambulance was going to take forty minutes to get to us. I was a bit shocked at this, as there is an ambulance station within half a mile of where we were. I was told that as it was a peak-time for the ambulance service, an ambulance had been dispatched from Preston – a good 40 miles or so away.
Fantastic.
About 20 minutes later the chap under the blanket on the road behind my taxi started coming around, so I called 999 again to ask them what to do, as he was getting a bit weird, shouting, moaning, raving and bleeding from his head.
The operator despatched the police to our location, to assist.
When the police turned up, our friend on the floor went up a gear. He was struggling to get up, alternately growling at the police, and coming out with lines like “I WANNNNT TO BEE FREEEEEEE!!! FREEEEE MEEEEE!”
He wasn’t being restrained, he was just under a blanket, which he was struggling with.
Shortly afterwards, the ambulance turned up, and a paramedic walked over to assess the gentleman on the floor. He addressed the men:
“Good evening, Sir, what’s your name please?”
“Sir…? SIRRRR? Don’t you ‘SIR’ me!”
“Well, we need to call you something, what would you like me to do?” said the paramedic.
“What I would like YOU to do sir, is to FUCK OFF!” suddenly very coherently.
“Okay then” said the paramedic, spun on his heel, climbed back into his ambulance, and drove back to Preston.
I said to the Police officer next to me “Err, what just happened?”
“Zero Tolerance sir, they don’t have to tolerate bad language, so they don’t”
“Blimey.”
“So now we have to take him to the station, where the custody sergeant will not allow us to process him as he’s injured, and appears to be under the influence of alcohol, so we’ll have to call another ambulance.”
Which they did.
What an enormous waste of my time that was…
A few years pass.
I was in Lancaster, round the back of the railway station, when I saw someone’s feet sticking out into the road.
This old chap was snoring away, on his back. I was more concerned that a less careful driver might simply drive over his legs, which my conscience couldn’t stand.
So I parked my taxi near him, and turned on my hazard lights. Unfortunately I was unable to wake him up as he was very, very drunk.
I had another pedestrian that had stopped to assist me so I called 999. They sent the Police and an ambulance.
Just as they both showed up, the gentleman came round and started staggering about in the road. It turned out that he lived in the flats immediately nearby, so we all tried to work out where he lived.
As he bobbed and weaved into the front door of his building, a security light flickered on, illuminating a suddenly familiar face, minus the blood.
In true Fifty Shades style, “I gasped audibly.”
Then I think I might have swore.
One of the Police officers said “Oh not him again.”
“Does this a lot does he?” I asked.
“Quite a lot, yes”
Great.
To be caught out twice in three years I feel quite lucky in hindsight.
But still. People like that man tie up important resources because of their irresponsibility.
Will I stop to help someone in peril again – very probably.
Not because I fancy myself as some kind of hero. It’s because I care.
I care about people.
Even the idiots.
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