The Good Samaritan

I spent a couple years in Boston. Those were good years. I spent the weekdays mountainbiking and working from home, and the weeknights at the bars. My friend Rafi and I had a routine. Every Friday we’d start out at a brewpub for pints of beer and mounds of buffalo wings. Then we’d move onto the pool hall where we’d goggle over the pretty barmaids and drink more beer than we should’ve. By 2:00AM we’d be walking over to the nearby IHOP for the post-drunk breakfast. For some reason, at this time, Rafi always got it in his head that he wanted to help out the homeless. But giving away change wasn’t enough for Rafi. No. “Let’s take a homeless person to breakfast,” he’d always say. Luckily the bums just ignored his offers, thinking he was crazy or wanting booze-money instead.

Well this one time we were stumbling along beside Fenway park. Now, during a game, that’s the busiest part of the city. But at 2:00AM on a Friday it’s pretty dead. There’s nothing but dirt, debris, and darkness, and on this particular evening, Rafi and me.

As usual, Rafi started-up again, “Let’s take a bum to get some pancakes,” he said. “Awww, come on Rafi,” I replied weary and hungry, “Let’s just go get something to eat.” But he wouldn’t have it. “No really, let’s take a bum to breakfast.” Then the heavens opened up and gave him hope. There in the distance, about 2 blocks away, was a silhoutte. Rafi started screaming at it, “Hey you! Come here!” Much to my surprise, the guy turned around and started heading our way. Now, if I was walking along a dark, deserted street at 2AM, and two guys were yelling for me to come over, the last thing I’d do is come over. But here this guy was, heading our way, swinging his hands happily at his sides as he walked. I was suspicious.

“We’re heading over to the IHOP,” Rafi said as the guy got up to us, “want to go for some pancakes?”
“What?”
“We’re going to get some pancakes. Want to get some pancakes?”
“Uh, no.”

I figured the matter was settled. “Let’s go Rafi.” I chimed in, “He doesn’t want any pancakes.”
I should have known better.
“Come on,” Rafi said ignoring me, “We'll buy. Let’s go to IHOP and get some pancakes.”
“No thanks man.”

“You don’t want pancakes? Why don’t you want any pancakes? Come on. Let’s go get some pancakes.”
“No man, I’m not hungry.”

“Why don’t you want any pancakes? What are you doing out here walking around the streets at 2 in the morning if you don’t want any pancakes?”
“I don’t know, man. I’m just walking around.”

“What? You can’t just be walking around. What are you doing out here this late at night? Why don’t you want to get some pancakes?”
“I’m just walking,” the guy replied, looking at the ground, hands in pockets, shuffling feet. He was getting uncomfortable, not wanting to come out with it.

“Well if you don’t have anything else to do, you should come with us to get some pancakes.”

That was it. The guy finally broke down and came out with it, his body swayed back and forth with city attitude and confidence, and he said it: “Hey man, I’m just looking to suck some dick.”

“Huh?” Rafi just stood there. Stupified. Mouth gaping open.

“You heard the man," I said taking control, "He wants to suck some dick.” I turned my attention to the guy, “What’s your name?”
“Edwardo."
“Edwardo, nice to meet you. I’m John,” I said and shook his hand, “This is Rafi. Come on Rafi. Let’s go.”

After that, Rafi didn’t ask bums to breakfast anymore.