Sudsy - Portrait of a Town Drunk

This is a simple story about a simple man who lives somewhere in my neighborhood. Whether he lives in a house, a tent or a cardboard box, I don't know. But what I do know is that this man, who I’ll call “Sudsy”, drinks a lot.

You see, Sudsy can be seen most mornings staggering along the local roads. At eight in the morning, he’s already three sheets to the wind. I don’t even know how this is possible. Does the guy start drinking at 4:00 in the morning? He obviously doesn’t work, so I’m assuming that he gets a government check to pay for his “necessities”.

Sudsy is quite incredible. Although his eyes are usually bloodshot, his liver must be made of steel. And if alcohol destroys brain calls like they say, Sudsy is truly a medical miracle. He’s got to be running on fumes at this point. But, nonetheless, he continues to live and drink another day.

I ran into Sudsy at the local 7-11 one morning a couple of years ago. I was stopping in to grab a cup of coffee; he was stopping by to grab a chili-cheese Big Bite. Just the thought of eating something like this at 8:00 in the morning made my stomach turn. As luck would have it, I was running behind schedule and I got stuck behind Suds in the checkout line. With his blood alcohol level off the charts, he attempted to pay for his breakfast with a pocket full of coins. As you can probably guess, things quickly got complicated for the simple man. He dropped half the coins on the floor and they rolled in ten different directions. Customers grabbed whatever coins that they could and placed them back on the counter in an effort to speed things up.

After what seemed like a day and half, Sudsy’s transaction was finally complete. Or was it? Just when everyone thought they were going to get to work on time, Suds fell back into the counter and mumbled something to the cashier. I’m three feet away and the only word that I can understand is pepperoni. After all we just went through, now the guy wants a slice of pizza to chase down his chili cheese dog! The cashier goes to retrieve the pizza and Sudsy reaches into pocket to retrieve a fresh pile of coins. At this point, a guy in the back of the line comes forward and says, “This isn't even funny anymore. I’ll pay for the damned pizza!” Thank God for small favors!

When Sudsy isn’t impeding business at local convenience stores, he can usually be found passed out in front of one of the local bars. Not exactly a ringing endorsement for the bars. But what do they really care? It’s 8:00 in the morning and they’re closed.

Maybe there’s a compelling reason for his constant state of drunken stupor. And who knows? Maybe one day, I’ll take the time to introduce myself and learn Sudsy’s real name. Until then, I’ll just try to avoid running him over when he’s staggering down the middle of the road.

KW