lost count of the body count

WARNING: this is a story about a dead person, do not read while you're eating or if you're sensitive

I don't know why, but I have a habit of seeing dead people, including a guy getting killed by a train and a homeless guy who died in my back alley. Maybe because of my zombie knee?

Today I worked all morning (actually, I worked all Saturday and Sunday, but, I'm stuck in Houston and there isn't much to do) and decided to take the afternoon off to go to the Houston Museum of Fine Arts and the sculpture gardens. I was going to walk there.

I got two blocks from my hotel when I encountered the below pictured body. I wasn't sure at first that he was dead so I yelled at him. No response. I looked at his hands and the tissue was somehow, hard to describe, waxy or settled in a way. Also, his position seemed rigid.

I went over to a tree, broke a stick off, and then poked the guy with it. Stiff as a board, no response. He was so dirty I was afraid to touch him.

 So I called 911. A rude dispatcher asked me a bunch of questions. "Do you need an ambulance, fire engine, or police?" I was like "what ever you normally send for a dead body". And he was like "Ma'am, I NEED TO KNOW do you need an ambulance, fire engine, or police?" I was like "I guess send them all if you don't know because I don't know what I need."

I was transferred to the ambulance dispatcher. She made me spell the names of the street intersections (Bell, how hard is it to spell that?). Then she asked me what his race was. I couldn't see because he was laying on his face so I guessed and the woman started yelling at me for not being able to tell if he was hispanic or asian. She told me to roll him over but I said he was too dirty. Also, there was fluid leaking out from under his body. I didn't want to know where it was coming from.

She told me to ask him his name. I said "I'm pretty sure he can't answer because he's dead". She asked me to feel for a pulse but I couldn't bring myself to do it. This guy was REALLY dirty. She then advised me to wait with him until the cops came and to flag down the cops so they would know where I was (how hard could it be to find the fucking location? I gave them a street intersection and the name of the garage). I was supposed to start CPR on him, not give him fluids, and make sure he didn't take any medication. All of which I knew he wouldn't do, because he was dead.

So I was standing about 10 feet away from the body, smoking, when a guy came up to me pushing a guy in a wheel chair. Unbelievably, they were going to try to rob the guy. I started yelling at them but the wheel chair pusher was a lot bigger than me so I crossed the street after telling them the police were only moments away (which was a lie). The wheel chair pusher did something to the body and then I heard him yell out in disgust before pushing his friend away.

The ambulance showed up 30 minutes later. The guy got out and said "where is the victim?" I was like um, dude, RIGHT THERE. He put on some gloves and checked the guy's pulse. Dead.

So he and his partner pulled out a gurney and picked the guy up and dropped him in a heap on the gurney. I must have looked horrified because the driver said "don't worry, he's just homeless". The other guy said "if it makes you feel better pretend he's just sleeping". A fire truck showed up around that time and hosed down the area where the body was (there was vomit and other fluids all over the side walk). As the ambulance drove away the driver, I am NOT making this up, blew a kiss at me and said "thanks for calling baby". The other guy winked at me.

I decided, since I had spent so much time with the dead guy, to drive to the museum because it was going to close in 3 hours. It ended up being a wise choice because mapquest said it was only a 3 mile walk but in fact it was 5 miles.

I went to the sculpture garden first and saw this:

The second sculpture is almost exactly the position the dead guy was in.

I'm having a run of weirdness this month, imploding situations with people, bad travel karma, bad luck with my maids (how many more things can they break in my house), unusually angry customers (not at me, at my company - I just get to be the punching bag), and a general sense of unease about the 9/11 anniversary. I hope I don't have to fly that day.

And I hope my luck changes soon...