When reality walks by....

I was in a car, waiting for the light to change, when I noticed a man by the side of the street. He was dressed in a sweater that was too large, one sleeve was dangling as I am not sure where his arm was. He was probably in his late 40s, early 50s, a little out-of-it, as he crossed the street; and that's when I noticed the unmistakable dark stain that ran down the back of his khaki -coloured pants. Dude, I thought.....is this what becomes of us?

And then I realized that I knew this man....it was Wally, an old customer of from the cigar shop I slung tobacco in a life-time ago. Wally was a little off his rocker -I was never sure what it was - depression? Manic? Schizophrenia? I never asked as I didn't want to break the boundaries I had set with customers. For example, I was the Queen of Small Talk; however, I rarely got into my personal life - yes, I was married and eventually had a child; however, surface details were good enough. Just as I would know names and a bit about customers; however, I rarely saw them outside of the shop as I had no desire to socialize with them. Boundaries - they are there for a reason.

Wally came from the East, and was once a doorman for a hotel, I believe. Wally had great days - he would show up freshly shaved and wanting something tasty and pricing as he had some money (typically around the end of the month, Welfare Wednesdays). Then there were the days when we wouldn't see Wally for a while (he could be quite regular - even twice a day); and when we would wee him, Wally was looking quite rough. Hair every where, clothes disheveled, caked dirt under the nails. Wally would then dump a hand-full of coin on the counter to see if he had enough for the cheapest cigarillo. And there were times when Wally didn't even have that, so we would "float" him and run a small tab, knowing that Wally would settle up eventually. When you manage a place, you are able to make these "rules", as crazy as they may seem; however, being able to get a .95 cigarillo, knowing that people would let you have it on the honor system when you have nothing else- I imagine that can be pretty empowering.

When I saw Wally walking by with his urine-soaked pants, I wondered what happened to him to get to that point. What crack had he finally fallen through? I just remembered how, for brief moments, we would treat him as an equal; and then I wondered, how often does that happen for him now?