Sunday, May 11, 2008
The Ballad of Stinky Pete
Got a call to pick up at the emergency room.
Walked into the ER. It was for Stinky Pete.
Now, every cabdriver in town may not know Stinky Pete by name, but when you mention his address, every cabdriver in town will respond with, "Damn that boy stinks."
Pete is.... shall we say.... mildly mentally ill... and in my opinion... what doctors call... a drug seeker. He is pushing 50 years old and he still lives with his mother. He frequently calls cabs to go to the ER for... seemingly self-inflicted injuries. I have picked him up at the ER a couple times just to have to listen to a tirade about how the doctor only gave him one Vicodin and a prescription for Motrin, "I told them one Vicodin doesn't touch my pain. I need at least three every four hours!"
When Pete gets drunk he is a damn baby. Often a bartender will have to help him out to the cab, or he will feign being too weak to open the door. I caught on a long time ago and I don't let Stinky Pete get away with any of that nonsense. When I walked into the ER Pete was sitting in a wheel chair acting too weak to walk. "Can I get a little help here?!?!
"Pete, if you can't walk out to the cab how do you expect to walk up the stairs to your house?"
"I can walk up the stairs to my house, there is a hand rail."
"I ain't carrying you into the house, Pete. If you can't walk out to the cab you can wait in the emergency room."
"I can get to my door. I just need a little help to the cab."
"Pete, get off your ass and walk. I'm giving you one minute, then I'm turning the meter on."
Wouldn't you know, some nice-guy civilian started pushing Pete's wheelchair out the door.
"STOP! Right there. Turn the wheelchair around and let him walk."
Pete realized he was as close as he was going to get to the cab unaided and jumped up and limped to the cab. He pretended to have a lot of difficulty getting into the cab because of some fake leg pain.
"Meter's on."
He sat down without a problem.
Within about 1 second the stench got to me.
"Can you roll the windows up. It is cold in here."
"No."
"All I got is these shorts and a t-shirt. I'm cold."
"We're not rolling the windows up. You stink."
"Well, the hot water in the shower..."
"Put a cork in it. You always stink, Pete. Tonight it is exceptionally bad."
After that I had a quiet, but olfactory-offensive trip to Stinky Pete's house.
Pete got out of the cab and walked to his home without any difficulty.
An hour or so later I found myself back in the neighborhood of the hospital. I stopped in to tell the security guard, "After I got Stinky into the cab I realized I probably could have got $5 from everyone in the emergency room to take him off your hands."
The security guard laughed and said, "I would have kicked in $5 to see him leave. Damn that boy stinks."
Walked into the ER. It was for Stinky Pete.
Now, every cabdriver in town may not know Stinky Pete by name, but when you mention his address, every cabdriver in town will respond with, "Damn that boy stinks."
Pete is.... shall we say.... mildly mentally ill... and in my opinion... what doctors call... a drug seeker. He is pushing 50 years old and he still lives with his mother. He frequently calls cabs to go to the ER for... seemingly self-inflicted injuries. I have picked him up at the ER a couple times just to have to listen to a tirade about how the doctor only gave him one Vicodin and a prescription for Motrin, "I told them one Vicodin doesn't touch my pain. I need at least three every four hours!"
When Pete gets drunk he is a damn baby. Often a bartender will have to help him out to the cab, or he will feign being too weak to open the door. I caught on a long time ago and I don't let Stinky Pete get away with any of that nonsense. When I walked into the ER Pete was sitting in a wheel chair acting too weak to walk. "Can I get a little help here?!?!
"Pete, if you can't walk out to the cab how do you expect to walk up the stairs to your house?"
"I can walk up the stairs to my house, there is a hand rail."
"I ain't carrying you into the house, Pete. If you can't walk out to the cab you can wait in the emergency room."
"I can get to my door. I just need a little help to the cab."
"Pete, get off your ass and walk. I'm giving you one minute, then I'm turning the meter on."
Wouldn't you know, some nice-guy civilian started pushing Pete's wheelchair out the door.
"STOP! Right there. Turn the wheelchair around and let him walk."
Pete realized he was as close as he was going to get to the cab unaided and jumped up and limped to the cab. He pretended to have a lot of difficulty getting into the cab because of some fake leg pain.
"Meter's on."
He sat down without a problem.
Within about 1 second the stench got to me.
"Can you roll the windows up. It is cold in here."
"No."
"All I got is these shorts and a t-shirt. I'm cold."
"We're not rolling the windows up. You stink."
"Well, the hot water in the shower..."
"Put a cork in it. You always stink, Pete. Tonight it is exceptionally bad."
After that I had a quiet, but olfactory-offensive trip to Stinky Pete's house.
Pete got out of the cab and walked to his home without any difficulty.
An hour or so later I found myself back in the neighborhood of the hospital. I stopped in to tell the security guard, "After I got Stinky into the cab I realized I probably could have got $5 from everyone in the emergency room to take him off your hands."
The security guard laughed and said, "I would have kicked in $5 to see him leave. Damn that boy stinks."
# posted by Coldfoot @ 2:53 AM 
