Description: Too Drunk To Walk
So here I am, sitting at Bocci's after work. I'm sitting there
for about an hour, talking to a friend of mine, and out of the
corner of my eye, I see this old man over by the door starting
to slip out of his stool, and he finally came to rest down by
the floor. I figure the right thing to do is go help him, so I
go down there and give him a hand up. He gets about halfway up,
and starts sliding down.
"I think it's time for this one to go home," I tells the barten-
der. I ask the guy where he lives, and if he needed a ride home.
He says, "No, I don't have a car, but I only live about 4 houses
down." So, I get the address, and I start to help him off the
barstool, and we start heading out the door. "Vinnie!!" the bar-
tender yells out, but I just wave him off. "It's OK." I says.
"I'll be back in a couple of minutes." So we get close to the door,
and the guy's legs slip out from under him again, and I'm thinking,
"This dude's one fucked up unit!" We get out to the driveway, and
he slips not once, but 2 more times, and I'm getting frustrated.
So, I throw him over my shoulder, and carry him the remaining dis-
tance to his house. I knocks on the door, and his wife says, "Who
I says, "My name is Vinnie, and I brought your husband home." She
opens the door, and I brush by her, and lay her husband on the
couch. He kind of slides over onto his side, one eye open, the other
mostly closed. There's spit running out the side of his mouth. I
look at the lady, and I say, "Lady, you really ought to talk to
your husband about his drinking."
She says, "I intend to." Then she looks over my shoulder, and out
on the porch, and asks, "By the way, where did you put his wheel-