I walk almost every day. The length of my walk depends on my available time and the heat of the sun. While I enjoy the exercise, my motivation is usually based on Audible. I am currently “reading” four books. One fiction, two books on social justice matters and one book for my endless research of LA history. When it is really hot and I want to bail, the audio books keep me in the walking game.

Some of the writing is very compelling and while I am aware of my physical world with stop lights, cars, other pedestrians I am also inhabiting another place laid out in detail by a gifted author. Such was the case in the late morning of Wednesday October 18.

I was about halfway through the novel Trust by Hernan Diaz. One of the main characters was explaining in exact detail the ink and the press her father used to print radical pamphlets in 1930’s New York City. The character had accepted a job with one of the wealthiest men in the city and now there was tension between her and her Socialist father. I enjoyed how the author weaved the complexities of haves and have nots in one family with detailed descriptions of fonts like Sans Serif.

As I walked north on Grove Drive, very focused on the book, I noticed a man with bright green hair slumped over in his car. I stopped. I didn’t really know why I noticed him especially since I was enjoying the book. But I did not think all was right. I looked around to see if anyone was seeing what I was seeing but there was no one near me. I was alone.

I took a big breath and started pounding. “Hello!” “Sir!” I yelled loud to get his attention but not loud enough to make a scene. No response. I went into the lobby of Broadcast Apartments and looked for someone to help me. There was a man sitting in a chair, I said “Will you come help me with this man? I think something is wrong”. He assessed if I was trying to trap him in some scheme. I said, “I know it is weird”. I went back to the sidewalk where I pounded the car door again. The man followed, he did not help me pound but instead said, “I moved here from Venice. That looks like an overdose.” I replied, “Venice? Well you would know.” I called 911. The dispatcher asked if I wanted police or ambulance. I wondered how a walk in the neighborhood had turned into this question. I replied, “Ambulance”.

The red truck arrived in about twelve minutes. The Venice Man and I watched the two strong EMS guys shake the car. I said to him, “The Prius looks like it is experiencing a 6.8 quake.” We both noted that the man in the green hair did not respond. He remained slumped.

The EMS team tried all the doors. They were locked. I asked, “Do you have a Slim Jim?” The guy closest to me said, “It’s in the engine.”

So, now all four of us were waiting for the fire engine. I took the opportunity to ask what they thought was going on. The EMS guy said, “Probably fentanyl. Problem is the Fentanyl is stronger now and we need two Narcan to work.” He showed me his hand which held Narcan.

It seemed to me that all four of us sighed.

We heard the siren and watched the engine miss our street. One of the EMS guys walkie talkied the truck to turn around. They pulled up and we were now a full on scene impacting the Erewhon lunch crowd. Frustrated drivers were getting loud. I watched six men shake the car. Now, The Richter was over an 8. Green Haired Man did not respond.

A firefighter went to the engine and pulled out a bag. Another fire fighter helped him as they poked through Slim Jims, which all looked like bent hangers. Eventually, they landed on one and snaked it into the door. The lock released. I mumbled “Yay.”

One firefighter got in and yelled into the Green Hair Man’s ear. He stirred. When he lifted his head I saw that he had white face with clown eyes and realized his face was The Joker. Now the green hair made sense but I felt sad. A depressing character from a dark comic movie in a hot car on a random Wednesday in October. Opiods suck. I am sure Joaquin Phoenix would also be sad.

When they asked if he had taken any drugs he gave an incoherent answer. They asked him to get out of the car. He stumbled and went for the stretcher. The EMS men lifted Green Hair Man into the ambulance and told him they would be taking him to the hospital.

A fire fighter turned to us , “Nothing else to see here.” I felt the same but I had been feeling protective of the Green Hair Man and said, “I’m waiting for you to close his car door.” The fire fighter seemed surprised and annoyed. I watched him walk over and shut the door. With that I said goodbye to Venice Man, thanked the firefighters and went back to my Audible.

During the whole process I had considered the eight paid city workers. That is a lot of resources to deal with a guy who wanted to get high. None of them or the Venice Man or me wanted Green Hair Man to die but we also know we are limited. People do what they do.

About fifteen minutes after I left Green Hair Man, EMS and Venice Man I stopped in Jonathan Wright & Company. I wanted to order a new business card. I picked out the ink, the paper and I spent a long time on the Sans Serif fonts.

Later when I told the story to my friend, he asked if I was upset by the weird experience I said, “No. But I think that says something.”

Sigh.