We all hate cell phone drivers.
Readers: “BOO. HISSSSS. This joke has been done to death by funny comedians like John Leguizamo and Roseanne Barr. Find a creative thing to tell.”
Yeah, I know. My sense of responsibility to my audience (both of you) runs deeper than telling you run-of-the-mill stories that have been rehashed ad nauseum by funny men and women like Martin Lawrence and everybody with a sitcom on the WB. This story is different—trust me.
Today while I was driving around in suburban Wichita talking on my cell phone to my wife Limpy, I encountered a Most Curious Gentleman (MCG.) MCG was about 55-62 years old with clown-pattern baldness. Clown-pattern baldness is where the center of your head is shiny and hairless, but the sides of your head have long hair that ends up looking unkempt. Also, clown-pattern baldness shows the wearer has at least a LITTLE self-awareness because it lacks the thin strip of knee-length comb-over hair.
OK. So, MCG was crossing the street—jaywalking more like—and as I approached him in my car, I thought he might be hurt. It was a seedy-looking part of the neighborhood and he was staggering, all hunched over and holding his chest. I was approaching from his 4:00 position so I couldn’t actually see if he was holding his chest, but he had that freshly-stabbed stance to him.
Anyway, staggering, he stopped in the middle of the road right in front of me. Mind you, (and you will,) he was crossing mid-block and jaywalking. Also, this man who had just stopped in front of me was wearing a purple jogging suit and sneakers—but not cool sneakers, more like sneakers the way old people wear them.
I stopped the car literally 10 feet from him. I was worried a bit and started running through all the scenarios this could play out to be. I hung up on my wife Limpy in order to free my phone for an impending 911 call. I even started looking to see if blood was falling from his person onto the pavement. Then I observed for a moment so I could better ascertain the reason MCG was hunched over like that.
I gave the slightest honk of my horn so he would know I was there. He turned around with a start and a look of stark terror on his face. I think he thought I almost hit him even though I had been parked for roughly 30 seconds by that point. His terror-filled eyes made me imagine even more things that could have happened to him.
But then he straightened up and looked at me calmly. He gave me that ‘I’m so very sorry’ wave of the hand and finished crossing the road. I still hadn’t figured out why he had been all hunched over.
Then I saw it: Cell Phone.
MCG in his purple jogging suit had stopped IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD because he was fiddling with his cell phone. His CELL PHONE.
I’m assuming soon we will read about this guy in the paper: “Man Impales Self With Manhole Cover, Blames Cell Phone” or “Man Falls Into Tiger Pit At Zoo, Doesn’t Notice Tiger Munching On His Leg.”
Anyway, I continued to watch the man cross the street—fiddling with the cell phone—as I drove away. He staggered on, and then ALL MY WILDEST DREAMS WERE FULFILLED when I saw the man trip over the curb and fall down on the grass. I was simply giddy with excitement having witnessed the most impressive display of cell-phone stupidity ever invented by man. The moment was practically Cingular. Pun intended.