It took me less than five hours after writing yesterdays web log to find out that people falling isn't always funny. To be fair though, I did say it was funny when people slip and fall, not just fall.
Maybe I'm not a hero. I was just doing what anyone else would have done. You can choose not to call me a hero if you want. As for me, I consider myself a hero. If you don't find me to be a hero you can just shut up.
I was at Wal*Mart doing my weekly shopping. Nothing out of the ordinary. Except I went at two o'clock instead of the usual 5 o'clock. Other than that everything was normal. I was coming out of aisle 10, heading north.
(Please note I don't actually remember what aisle I was coming out of, but for plot purposes let's just say it was aisle 10. For those that don't know their directions, if you come out of one of the aisles at Wal*Mart heading north you would be going towards the meat section.)
I exited aisle 10 and there was a cart in the way. I could still get around it, but it was a nuisance. Who did this guy think he was, just standing there? He was in the way and he didn't seem to care. He just stood there. Right between aisles 9 and 10 in front of a display case of Gatorade. At least he could have pulled his car parallel to the display case, but no, he had to have his cart at a 45 degree angle. I went around him. A nuisance, but he was old, probably in his 70s, so I figured I'd give the old guy a break.
I needed to get some meat, so I went over and got some. I turned my cart around and headed back towards the aisles. The old man was still there. Standing right in front of the Gatorade display case, between aisles 9 and 10. He hadn't moved an inch.
I stopped my cart about five feet away from the old man. I looked down aisle 9 to see if I needed anything on it. I didn't want to walk all the way down it if I didn't need anything down there. I searched the aisle. I kept glancing at the old man. I couldn't keep my eyes off of him. Eventually I stopped scanning the aisle and just stared at the old man.
He looked dazed and confused. He only had five or six items in his cart. He was probably thinking about what else he needed to put in there, I thought.
It'd been about two minutes since I first spotted the old man. He hadn't moved the entire time.
He finally moved.
His knees bent. They stayed bent for a few seconds. Then they started to shake. It was like he was trying to stand back up straight, but he couldn't do it. The front of of his cart started to rise. He was putting all of his weight on the handle, trying to stay upright.
I was done watching. I left my cart there and started to walk towards the man.
"Si..."
I couldn't even say one word before he was on the ground, flat on his back. He didn't hit the ground hard. The cart had slowed his fall. The cart was going down with him though. He had held onto it as he fell, only letting go when he hit the ground. The front end of the cart was heading for his head.
I reached my right hand out, grabbed the cart and picked it up. I moved it away from the old man and set it down.
By the time I'd set the cart down there were already 3 or 4 people around the old man. One lady was kneeling next to him, her husband joined her shortly after.
One guy had pulled his phone out. He bent down, informed us all that he'd call 911. For some reason he had to hold his phone out and wave it in front of everyone's face as he said it. I half expected him to ask what the number was.
If the old man ever lost consciousness it was only for a split second. He was responding to the old lady that was kneeling next to him the whole time. She repeatedly asked him if he was all right. His only response was that he was diabetic.
The lady on her knees looked up and asked for some juice, candy, anything. I reached for the bag of candy in my cart.
(Now some of you may be saying, bull crap. You think that since there was a bag of candy in my cart that I'm making the story up. That's not the case. Most of you know that I hardly ever eat candy. I certainly don't eat it enough to be buying a bag of it. Those of you that know that probably also know that along with my grocery shopping, I go for my mom too. She has me buy bags of candy occasionally. I guess there is this bowl at work that she always puts it in. Supposedly no one knows that it's her that keeps putting candy in the bowl. They all just think it's the magical bowl of candy that miraculously get filled.)
I couldn't even grab the bag of candy fast enough. One man had already ripped a bottle of Gatorade off the display case and had opened it. He handed the bottle to the lady kneeling next to the old man. Another gentleman helped the man sit up and drink the Gatorade.
I didn't know what to do. Everyone else there seemed to have everything under control. I was just in the way now.
A few of the old man's items had fallen out of his cart during the fall. I walked over, picked them up and put them back in his cart. I don't know what good that did. He probably wasn't going to finish his shopping that day. Having put his items back in his cart, I continued my shopping.
I made my way towards the produce. I kept think about the old man. About how he just fell. How I was just upset with him for being in the way. I felt bad. I was kind of scared too. What if I had missed the cart? The man appeared to be all right, but what if the cart fell on him? I stopped thinking about the old man.
I tried to concentrate on finishing my shopping. It was hard with the policemen and paramedics running by.
I thought about the Gatorade. Who pays for it? Does Wal*Mart just bite the bullet on that one? Do they make the guy who pulled it off the shelve pay? Does the old man pay for drinking it?
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