Friday night, I stopped at the grocery store after work, and there was this old dude lying on the ground outside of the store. And he was trying to get to his feet, but he couldn't get up. And his cane was beside him on the ground. And people coming out of the store were walking around him to get to their cars.
There was a cart boy just kind of, like, standing there, so I asked him what was going on. "I don't know," the kid said. "I just got back from a customer's car and he was just lying here. And he can't get up."
I called 911. I explained the situation. The dispatcher had me ask the dude some questions, which the guy was able to answer (No, he hadn't fallen, he wasn't sure what had happened; no, he had no history of seizures; no, he wasn't on any medications; etc.), and said he'd send some paramedics.
Once the old dude had been able to get himself into a sitting position and it was clear that he wasn't, like, about to DIE or something, I started chatting with him. Just to, I don't know, pass the time, as the dispatcher had asked me to wait with the old guy until the ambulance came. He said he'd lived in Chicago and California and came back to the area to care for his parents, who had since passed away. He was a retired social worker and he didn't much care for the local weather and blah blah blah and the ambulance got there.
"Sir," one of the paramedics said, "What happened? Did you fall? Are you dizzy? Have you ever had seizures?"
"Hell, son," the old dude said. "I'm DRUNK!"
Yeah, I'm not too smart. I called 911 for a wino.