Right now I am looking out the window in front of my desk at two fire trucks and an ambulance. Some random drunk guy just passed out on the grass around our parking lot. I don't know if it was heatstroke (it's 103 degrees today), dehydration or just normal drunkeness. It's aweful, but it you're going to be drunk and out in the sun when it's 103, that's what you get.
I'm a horrible person because, before I found out it was a random drunk, I was rooting for it to be Hector.
Hector is a creepy old (mid-late 30s. Not that old, but old enough) hispanic (great, now I'm going to sound racist too) guy who's been doing landscaping for us all summer. He's creepy because he hits on me all the time. And he has gold teeth. And smokes. And hits on me all the time. A month or so ago he gave me a dozen roses totally out of the blue. A few weeks ago he tried to give me a bottle of perfume. He's asked me out to lunch, to go dancing, to dinner, to get coffee on several occasions. He has also asked for my number. He really bothers me. I guess I should say something to one of the higher-ups about it.
Anyway, I was really hoping it would be him because if he got carted away, I wouldn't have to deal with him at least for the rest of the day. I'm terrible. It's not good to wish bad things on people, no matter how creepy and yucky they are.
The random drunk just walked off. They had him sitting in the back of the ambulance for a while. I guess they revitalized him.