RESURRECT DEAD ON PLANET JUPiTER

911

So yesterday afternoon I was enjoying a nice walk home from Reading Terminal when I hear a woman screaming. She’s not screaming for help, but she’s definitely in distress. At 13th and Filbert, this is what I see:

A minivan. In the passenger side is a kid, maybe 10. In the drivers seat is the screaming woman. Outside the car is a sweater wearing man banging on the window, pulling on the door and generally trying to get into the car with what appears to be uncontrolled rage. The woman is scared, very scared.

I stand there for a second mulling my options.

1. Confront the man and try to diffuse the situation. I decide that although this woman may be in immediate danger, this isn’t my best option. I feel kind of bad being such a pussy, but I don’t really want to get into a fight with an extremely mad and unpredictable lunatic. The woman knows this guy and she’s obviously terrified of him. I take that as a character assessment and think of my other options.

2. Call 911. I decide that this would waste time. Why?

3. The courthouse is right there and it’s always teeming with cops. I decide to go flush one out. I go over to the courthouse, but it’s Sunday and it’s shut tight. Damn. The woman is still screaming and the man is madder than ever. He’s gotten the door open, or she’s opened the door. He’s leaning into the car, but it doesn’t look like he’s punching or stabbing or anything. If anything, it looks like he’s hugging her, but the woman is still screaming and scared. I feel bad for the kid. I jog up the street and see a cop. He’s walking quickly towards me and when I stop him he tells me he’s already on his way. I continue on my walk. I hope the woman and the kid are ok, but I doubt they are.

So this afternoon I’m locking my bike up in front of Photolounge on Chestnut Street. A man walks up to me. This is out conversation:

“Excuse me, do you know where Breakaway Bikes is?”

“Yeah, it’s a couple doors up… just…”

“Yeah.” The man says with a free and easy tone, “that man just collapsed.”

Up the street, next to the bike shop he’s looking for is a large man lying motionless on the sidewalk. A small crowd is mingling around him. One person sort of pokes at him. Out of all the cell phones on all the ears of all the people in center city, no one milling about the apparently dead man is making a call.

“umh… it’s just past that man lying on the ground.”

“Thanks!”

The bike store guy jogs away and I call 911. Then I head into Photolounge. By the time I get out of the store, a fire truck is there and the ambulance is half a block away. I hope that man is OK. I think he’s the doorman at the apartment next to the State store.