Note to Self: Self-Preservation over Sympathy

So I leave the library, feeling pretty amused that I had just purchased a reasonably good condition issue of National Geographic from 1977 for 25 cents.

In the underground parking lot, I pull out and am about to leave the parking complex when I see someone coming toward me and waving at me to stop.

I figure that I forgot something at the library, and a librarian has come to my rescue-- but I think, this isn't a librarian that I've seen before. It's not.

It's a tiny Southeast Asian guy, 5 feet or less, 40 or 50, but somewhat dried out. His face wasn't necessarily a kind face, but a face that seemed capable of having been boyish and naive, before being weathered and lined the way that a period of hardship often causes... as it was now. A permanent expression of apology.

He comes near my opened window (I've just locked the doors) and asks if I am Vietnamese. I say no. He says his car has broken down on the highway and has been asking for a ride to a nearby bus stop for two hours, so that he can take the bus back to Baltimore, where he lives. Works as a mechanic in the area. There was more about a friend who lives in a nearby town/city. A towtruck to get his car. It sorta made sense at the time.

This is where I think two things: 1) how sad, and 2) he's lying.

But number 1 seems to win out in my head, so I said that I needed to call somebody first. I call my mom and I ask him for a driver's license. Doesn't have one. Has a Vietnam passport though, so I take it. It looks... a bit beaten up. The picture confirms my thought-- a bright-eyed and undeniably naive-looking face when young.

I read off the name to my mom, along with the passport number. The name he has indicated on his uniform is not really the same one as his passport. This doesn't occur to me at the time.

So he gets on the car and starts thanking me. I want to remain noncommital because I need to stay suspicious of him. Should've remained suspicious before I let him into the passenger seat, I think.

He says he's been outside in the cold for two hours and thinks he has a fever. On cue, he starts coughing into his hands. I open the windows on my side as I'm driving to the bus stop.

He talks about the other people that he talked to before, a Vietnamese couple who didn't quite trust him, and another man who told him to get lost. Interesting data.

I've made a few turns and am about halfway to the bus stop. He is telling me how to get there because I kinda know where it is, but it also helps to not appear to be so familiar with the area. His story is that he had just talked to the bus driver and the bus driver told him that that bus would be the right one to take. He asks almost immediately what time it is, but the illuminated clock is on the dash. Anyone with a car would know that, but I tell him anyway: 6pm.

Okay, he says, the bus driver told him the next bus is at 6:40. He has 40 minutes. What should he do, he ponders, and immediately comes up with the solution. There's a McDonald's across the street. He can go there to wait.

With more time, I'm starting to doubt this guy more and more. The story is a little... strange... and becoming increasingly so, and I probably shouldn't have started off by giving him the benefit of the doubt.

But so far, he seems to be okay, and sticking to his story. He asks me about me. For some reason I tell him my real name, but just the first. He apologizes for making me drive out of my way and asks if I live in the area. I say something to the effect of somewhere in the general area. Increasingly doubtful-- shouldn't've used my real name.

He talks about how he has to take the bus to get back. Then the Greyhound. Then he does a sort of a very uncertain retracing of his words, addressing me, and it's obvious that he's going to ask for money.

He says the bus is $5 and the Greyhound is $22. He doesn't have any money on him. I really don't like this one bit at all, but I know it generally hard to ask for money from a stranger, so I think maybe that the story is still somewhat true. He says that he's a mechanic, and if I give him my number, he can do some work on my car for free. I say that's okay, with a shake of my head. Actually, I don't want to call any bluffs or continue any sort of conversation-- but it's too late for that. So I just tell him I really don't have any money on me.

McDonald's-- I can see it. Nearby is a bank. I can tell he wants me to go there, but he doesn't say anything. I've made it very clear that all I have on me is $7. We get to McDonald's, I hand him $7-- such crisp bills that I enjoyed receiving as change-- and he's thanking me, but slithering out the door. His speech had been grateful, nervous, and almost excited the entire time. Very bizarre. I just want the whole thing to be over so I don't even make eye contact, but I do watch his movement, just in case.

He walks toward McDonald's, and somehow, I don't feel good at all. As I drive home, I put all 4 windows down and let it blow a little bit because he was coughing.

I pull out of the parking lot and start thinking about the what if's. But it's better not to. I guess I thought that because the context was that I had just left the library and was still in the library parking lot, that a hitchhiker wouldn't really count as one. I think that sometimes, it's okay to say sorry, I just can't, even though I feel sympathy or want to help.