I had the chance to be the template for doing the right thing and I believe I partially failed. Clarity of mind not being my strongest feature, I made some choices in the heat of action that, in retrospect, were not the best or even the simplest of possible courses.
Here's the story.
I was driving the trolley. This particular assignment was taking people who were in town for the "StyleMax" show away from the Merchandise Mart and back to their hotels. After a couple successful runs, I had a couple of women who needed to be dropped off at the Lenox Suites on Rush Street. I hadn't been particularly chatty with these ladies but then as traffic started to build up, we started talking about traffic. Then, about a block from their hotel, traffic came to a dead stop. Usually, in a traffic tie-up, there's some sort of mystery accompanied by legions of type-A personalities twisting their steering wheels and trying to find some angle, any angle with which to better see the problem and deal with it. By the way, I'm generally not a type-A. If there's traffic and I'm stuck in it, fine. There's either gonna be something good on the radio or it's time for ol' Chris Churchill to start telling some good ol' Chris Churchill stories as Chris Churchill looks on and listens in awe. Or sometimes I just think about what I'll be doing later or what show(s) I'm in or preparing for. Traffic jams are not "Action Time" for me. Generally I just relax.
But this day was different.
It was obvious to everyone what the problem was. There was a trucklike thing (which I later found out was a "Colorado") parked in traffic, preventing most (especially those of us in big red vehicles) from getting around. At first, I thought I'd be patient. Maybe he wasn't paying attention and missed the light. It happens. It's a little irritating but I'm sure I've done before too. But then, after much honking by the two cars between his and mine, he slowly scooted up to the line. Then he missed the next green light. Now I was wondering...was he just being a passive-aggressive jerk a la' "I'll show those people to honk at me and tell me to go. I'm staying right here forever." Then I scooted up to his bumper (the cars between us were able to get around. I was not.) and flashed my lights and honked. A group of middle-aged lady pedestrians (pedestrianas?) approached the car from the crosswalk and one of them tapped the window. Then she looked up at me (because for some reason, people always assume I'm gonna know what to do.) and gestured to me that the man was hunched over his steering wheel, unconscious.
So, against my non-caring nature and my desire to not ever get up from my seat, I leapt into action. I jumped out of my seat and down the steps of the trolley, explaining to the ladies that I was going to "see what's going on." I arrived at the window in time to see a bleary eyed man trying to focus as his automatic window was coming down. I heard a voice say loudly, "He's smashed." Then he said, "What do you need." in a calm drunken manner, at which point I informed him that he had been asleep for quite a while blocking traffic. "No. The lights red." He emphasized "red", as if to give us all a lesson in traffic safety.
"Yeah. But it went red, green, red, green and now it's red again. You passed out."
He was beginning to believe us. I continued by reaching into his car and turning it off, "Dude. You can't drive like this."
"No. I'm cool."
"No. You passed out." I was trying to actually take the key but I couldn't find the release button for the ignition key. It was at that point that I realized I was going to have to move him. So I told him I was driving him across the street and out of the way, to which he replied, "Shotgun!" I granted him dibs on "shotgun". I ran back to my trolley and told the ladies what was going on.
"Do you want us to stay here?" They offered.
"Yeah, if you would." was my flustered response. By the way, "flustered" is the adjective you can plug into the narrative freely from here on out. It'll cut down on repetition of the word.
So I got in his car and drove away, leaving my trolley with two people on it in traffic (not safe, I don't think.) I was going to just drop him in a loading zone and take his keys and come back in a few minutes but between my inability to find the key release, my belief that he would freak out if I asked him how I could take his keys and run away, and the guys pleading to drop him elsewhere, I ended up driving around the corner. Then around another corner. Next thing I knew, I was being told that "I have a parking spot. I have a downtown parking spot." After about five minutes of abandoning my passengers and driving away with a drunk guy, we arrived under Kinzie and Michigan at the back of some nondescript office building where he told me he could park inside.
So, so far, I've done the right thing? Maybe? Well here's where it falls apart. I, growing increasing concerned with the condition of my trolley and my passengers, decide I have to get out of there and back to my trolley. So I tell the guy, "Don't drive."
"Can I park it? Is that okay?"
"It's just in there?"
"Yeah."
"Okay. But after that don't drive."
Then I ran away as fast as I could and got back to my trolley. The pedestrians who witnessed it applauded. The cab drivers honked angrily. My passengers happily met my return. I dropped them one block further ahead and then I circled back to see if the guy was still at his spot. Of course not. I hope he parked. I bet he didn't. Drunk Man escaped the justice set aside by Trolley Man. But, who knows. Maybe one hot, over-active, summer day in Chicago, we'll meet again. And this time I'll put him away! FOREVER!
But until then...I am just...your humble Trolley Man.
