Last night I was riding my bike around Uptown Dallas when I spotted a man dressed in a white tuxedo jacket, black pants & bow tie lying on his back in the middle of Cole Avenue.
I stopped and asked him if he was alright. He slowly opened his eyes and mumbled something unintelligible. “Ah, drunk,” I thought. It appeared I had woken him from some kind of blackout. I asked him if he was able to move since he was lying in the middle of a busy street.
“Yeah,” he said. He tried to get up but struggled and collapsed.
“Come on,” I said, “you’ll get squashed out here.”
“Yeah. Yeah.”
At this point I began to wonder if he was suicidal.
“Do you need my help to get up?” I asked.
“Yeah.” He reached out his hand, but instead of grabbing mine, he laid down again. His glasses were about four feet away from his head. I picked them up as he started to move.
“Hey. I got your glasses,” I said.
He took them from me and as he raised his head I noticed there was a pool of blood on the pavement beneath him. I surveyed the area more closely and saw there was more blood sprayed across the asphalt. A noticeable wound covered most of the backside of his scalp.
“Whoa. You’re bleeding badly. I’m calling for help.”
I pulled out my cellphone and began to call the paramedics, but at this very moment a police car approached the scene. I flagged the officer down & I explained to him that I had just found this guy bleeding and incoherent. The officer took control of the situation, thanked me, and I took off.
My mind ran wild thinking of all the scenarios that would leave a well-dressed man in such terrible condition in the middle of the road. Was he merely intoxicated and clumsy? The amount of blood suggested something a little more violent. Was he beaten and left this way? Was he hit by a car? Was he thrown from a car? Was he shot?
I honestly couldn’t tell you.
