...whilst I'm in the mood for sharing 'special' stories...
This one, I'm equally proud and ashamed of. Let's just say the intentions were pure and I was just trying to be a good, stand-up citizen (or rather, we were), and it was, in the circumstances, an honest mistake to make.
Can we have some flashback music and graphics please? Thank you...
Scene: Interior, evening, slightly scabby lounge.
There we were, three carefree, youthful cheeky monkeys, doing what three, carefree, youthful, cheeky monkeys do when they house share - namely beer, take-aways, playstation, dvds, flower pressing...you know, the usual. Curtains open for all the world to see in, like a third rate brothel window only with more attractive occupants. It was the 'lets watch a blow-the-fuck-up-out-of-everything-film-probably-with-arnie-or-van-damme' portion of the evening, so off went the light, open went the beers, and down the trousers went the hands as we each took up our couch potato positions on the sofas. Our own trousers I hasten to add...otherwise that would be a different story.
By this point it must have been coming up to twelve, and as these were the days before 24 hour licensing, the peek period of post pub closing rush hour.
The house was situated on the bend of a cul-de-sac, so any time a car turned down the road at night time, we were confronted with the full sweeping arc of the lights panning across the room as it turned in, then disappearing again as the car continued to the end of the road. However, on this particular occasion, the movement of the lights was ultra slow. Slower than the offspring of an inbred deep south redneck on Jerry Springer. (Apologies to any inbred deep south rednecks reading, no offence intended). At first, this warranted no more than a cursory glance out the window from us, which showed a car practically kerb-crawling along the road. Which I suppose given the previous brothel window description Ive given you, wouldn't seem too out of place.
There was something about it though that did seem a bit odd, so we collectively summoned up the effort, one by one, to move to the window and have a look.
It was at this point that the cars lights were suddenly switched off and it turned around at the end of the road and just waited there, engine still running. There it remained for a good 10 minutes, occasionally rolling ever so slightly forward, whilst we carried on watching. By now we were all exhanging theories as to what was going on, and the one we all agreed on at first was that someone was "casing the houses" at the dark end of the street. So we watched still, for any further action. A few minutes later the car start creeping forward again, lights still off, and very very slowly, began to drive back towards the entrance, when it stopped a few houses down from us on the opposite side of the road. Suddenly the door swang open, quite forcefully and out stepped the shadowy figure from the driving seat.
As the occupant started to get out of the car, it was apparent he was a bit unstable - I mean, considering three 'Phd in drinking and its effects' holding members of the public were viewing him, we all thought we were more than qualified to notice. So, up went the arm onto the door, out lunged the body trying to stand upright and not wobble. Next, he swivelled around, slamming the door shut and nearly toppling backwards, then steadied himself for a while against the side of the car. After regaining some composure, or as much as he could muster, he walked around the back of the car onto the pavement and then around the corner out of sight. When I say walked, what I really mean is swayed. And wobbled. From side to side. Very juddery and unstable.
Well of course, we were outraged. "What a stupid drunken bastard" ;"driving a bloody car in that state"; "Do you reckon we should call the police? He went into that house just round the corner I think"; "What if he'd hit someone, and we saw him getting out drunk and never reported it - Id feel awful" etc etc.
So, captain sensible here was nominated to ring the police - what with my eloquent phone manner and all - and, rather impressively actually, a patrol car flashed its way down the street barely minutes later. The officers got out and came and asked us what we'd seen, and I duly relayed it back to them accompanied by much miming of a drunk. Which didnt take too much effort at this point. They thanked us for being good citizens, rang a few doorbells but got no reply, so decided that as they had the registration they would call around the following day to 'have a word'.
So off we went back indoors, chuffed at the good deed, and carried on getting pissed.
Next morning, the car was still there. Still there in the evening and no sign of the owner. By Sunday it had gone and I'd not seen the owner come back to take it.
Monday however, I saw it coming down the road. I was also eager to see the culprit in broad daylight.
So, I crouched at the side of the window so as not to be seen - after all, if he'd been spoken to by the police, he might have put two and two together.
The car stopped in more or less the same spot as before. The door started to open. Out stepped the owner....and blow me if he wasnt looking decidedly drunk again. My god, doesnt he ever stop?!
It was with a slow, embarassing, gut achingly vivid realisation though that the outrage gradually subsided. As my eyes followed him around the side of the car, hands on the roof again as before, they drifted downwards to the feet, then back up to the shaky legs and all of a sudden it became blindingly clear and the penny dropped.......
........he wasnt drunk. He was disabled.
How fucking evil did we feel.
To be fair though, it still doesnt explain the turning the lights off and kerb-crawling actions.