A contact with tarmac does not ruin a man

Unedited text.

July. Midnight on a regular workday. I was sitting in South-West Espoo, on the post in Soukka, waiting for an order. Right across the street there was a pub. I have not seen anyone coming out of there just lightly drunk, always heavily intoxicated.


Soukka. Photo: http://hikipedia.info/wiki/Soukka

This time I saw a gentleman, in his 40s or 50s wearing a light jacket and jeans. He flew out of the bar door like a rocket and made contact with a birch tree in front of the stairs. He wasn’t just drunk, I think he was testing the limits of how drunk one can be. All the objects one could lean on for support and move on, he used a hundred and one percent to stay up.

After getting his strength together leaning on the tree he had a plan where to go next. He grabbed a handrail next to him. Then he smoothly moved on to a house wall, leaning on it with two hands, face towards the wall. Then he turned his face to the street to cross it. The rocket pushed himself off of the wall and grabbed an electrical post right next to him. Then, after a bit of collecting his strength again, he stumbled across the street, finding a traffic sign for support. He then proceeded to move in a way which can’t be considered as walking, to the next electrical post and to a glass wall of a bus stop.

I observed and wondered if he will really try to enter my car and go somewhere with his remaining wisdom? Considering the experience I had with the kind of customers who don’t know who they are, where they are and where they want to go, added to the fact that they usually can’t find money or they don’t have it at all, it seemed safer to leave the post. But before that I wanted to make sure if he REALLY wants to get into my car. So I stayed on the post, watching what will happen next.

And the fellow came to my car and started to open the rear door but I had locked the doors. He tried to open the door failing to do so and not realizing why he can’t succeed, I lowered the window and told him “You’re not getting in my car, you’re too drunk.” I don’t need a customer who has problems with standing up or paying for the ride. Or worse, he could throw up in the car. Then my round is ruined for a couple of hours along with my mood.

He didn’t understand that he can’t get in the car, still pulling on the door. So I slowly started driving, so that he would let go of the door. He did and looked for support on the trunk door with his left hand which probably would leave a dent on the car because of his loose control of his body. So I accelerated a little more and he only slightly grazed the back end of my car. He then lost his balance and fell on the tarmac face down behind the car. I saw it in my rear view mirror and heard the thump. It could have been very painful.

I left the post, turned in front of the pub and stopped across the street. I stayed to see if he would move or if I need to call the ambulance.

After recovering for about 30 seconds, he turned on his back. Then, after a minute he was sitting up, enjoying the dim summer evening. He was feeling good enough to light a cigarette he found in his pocket.

The stuntman’s face seemed OK, so I guess the hit wasn’t that bad. But I think his body reminded him of the hit the next day. Seeing that he was OK, I left the post to the nearby Espoonlahti post.

Dear Reader,

Please find “The Diary of Taxi Driver in Finland. Part One” with about 100 stories on Amazon for just 2.99!

And if it’s not too much to ask, please leave your comment or put a Like on my book page on Amazon after the reading.

Many thanks in advance,

Tommi Topelund

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