Oh my gosh, I need to post about this before I forget! This morning, close to 4 a.m., I was finally ready to drift off to sleep. All of a sudden, a man starts yelling, "HELP!" in a frantic, desperate voice. You could tell he was running toward where we were parked in the RV. Paul looked out the window and grabbed his phone to call 911 if it came to that.
Surprisingly, five people appeared out of nowhere to help—at 4 a.m.!—and Paul saw another guy laid out on the concrete on a traffic island near Fountain Blvd. Since five people were already attempting to help, we stayed in the RV.
A little while later, the second guy was sitting up. We saw flashing lights, so an emergency vehicle had arrived. We don't know what happened, but I know that I have never heard a man yell that loudly or frantically. Took me quite a while to get back to sleep. I hope everyone involved is okay and all is well.
One thing about living in an RV is that you are closer and more involved with humanity and its wounds and ills when you're in the city than you would be living in your house or apartment. It's both startling and humbling. Definitely food for thought.
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