Les Hannah, day 5, part 2

The one drunk (out of the many) I closely followed defied death at least three times that night. At first I thought him an old man, because of the way he walked I supposed. However, I eventually got a very close look at him as he staggered before me within inches, and it appeared he was younger than me. His antics were actually quite comical for most of the evening. He would stand in a spot for several minutes at a time and slowly bend forward until it appeared as if he would surely fall. No one is that limber; he folded himself nearly in half, with his forehead mere inches off the ground – but he never fell. I never saw this man hit the ground. I saw plenty of other drunks bite the dust, but not this one. He did, however, come the closest to dying at least three different times.

As you recall from a previous posting I noted that there was hot tar present at the train station. A semi truck (French style of course) had delivered a huge tanker of the molten black ooze to the station, and the two ATV wheelbarrows I described in a previous post were taking loads of the tar from the truck to wherever it was being used within the station. One of these transporters would come fill up every fifteen minutes or so and speed away to the destination. This drunk man staggered his way over to the tanker truck; I was close by, having taken refuge from the rain beneath the canopy of the station and close enough to the truck where I got some heat from the molten tar and the propane torches being used to keep the tar in that condition.

Well, this man somehow managed to stagger over to the end of the truck, where the business of dumping the molten tar from the large to the small containers took place. I have no idea why, but in that moment I became concerned for his safety. I wanted to say or do something, but then reminded myself to mind my own business, so I let him go on. He managed to find his way (although I do not know how) through the incidental maze of tools and pallets and other construction zone obstacles to the end of the truck where the handle that opens the flood gate of tar was located. I watched as he placed his hand against the side of the truck; it was obviously hot as he withdrew it from there quickly and shook it. I thought this might drive him away. To this point I had said nothing – to any one: the man, the police, the other drunks (not that they would have cared). But what happened next caused me great concern and I could keep quiet no longer.

 This man did begin to fall, though he never hit the ground, and as he did he reached for something to steady himself. Well, he grabbed the handle that opens the valve and releases the tar. Apparently he did not pull it hard enough to open it fully as the tar did not rush out, but more trickled at first; more began to pour as he came closer and closer to falling. I ran through the open door of the train station, the one door that was still open for the construction workers, and called for the police. They immediately began yelling at me – in French of course. About all the French I know is dressing, so I motioned to them to follow me. Well, they did – I think they were going to arrest me until they saw what I was trying to get them to see. By the time we got to the man he had dumped several gallons, er liters, of tar onto the ground. The workers had place ply wood all around the area to protect the stone work of the entry way, so none spilled from the wood. But this man had managed either to spill some of the tar onto his feet or he had stepped into it. Apparently it did not burn him, or if it did he was so drunk he could not feel it. Either way, all that happened was the police pulled him from the tar and when they did his shoes came off – stuck in the tar. One of the male police officers pulled the man’s shoes from the tar and threw them as far as he could out into the street. The police yelled at the man to go away; he yelled something back, then went to retrieve his shoes. One officer yelled something at me while shaking a finger in my general direction and then they all went back inside.  You’re welcome.