No one expects panhandlers to keep banker’s hours, but having someone bang on your window, cup in hand, at 3 am is more than a little unnerving (and unlikely to result in a donation). For a woman working alone, it’s a huge a safety risk to roll down the window for a random stranger in the middle of the night. Even though the possibility exists for it to be a real request for assistance, in finding an address or to alert me about a possible medical problem, it’s not something I would normally do. But sometimes, particularly in the summer months, the absent-minded desire for a cool summer breeze brought about by an open window can make you fair game for the cash-soliciting opportunist.

Like every lieutenant, I have my regular locations where I park to take a break from driving. For a time, I had a rash of men asking for cash at not just one of my “spots”, but all of them, as if I had a strange GPS homing device attached to my command car. The odd thing was that all of the men universally told me they needed the money specifically for the purpose of buying baby formula. The details of their stories varied but the ending always involved a poor infant somewhere being deprived of sustenance.

In my head I would wonder where one would even purchase infant formula in the early hours of a new day. The location was never near a 24 hour supermarket or any other stores that might carry it. It fascinated me how so many different men used the same story. Where had they all come up with this idea? How could there be so many babies suffering, waiting for these men to return after successfully locating kindly strangers to pay for food, food which is advertised all over the city as being available for free with certain assistance from city agencies.

Luckily, at our station we actually had infant formula. It had been left over from a recent food drive or humanitarian aid campaign after the person giving it missed the donation deadline. As the supply waited in limbo for the next charity drive I noted a soon approaching expiration date on one of the containers, making it perfect to give away to the next stranger that interrupted my midnight hour me-time.

I carried the little canister with me every night I was on the road but it wasn’t long before another dedicated baby advocate made his way to my vehicle.

“Can you help me ma’am?” he asked. “I’ve got a new baby at home and we are out of formula at the moment. It’s not like I can talk to the social services people to get another voucher at this hour. Just a few dollars and I think I can get enough to feed the little guy until tomorrow.”

He would probably wonder about the incredible coincidence as I made his day, I thought. “You know what?” I told him, “You are in luck! I would love to assist your baby. What’s his name?”

The man’s face lit up as he told me “Henry”. It made my heart swell knowing I could provide a real service to this man who would no longer have to wander the streets in search of food for his new addition.

“You tell little Henry that we at EMS have his back and welcome him to the neighborhood!”

“I certainly will!” he said happily as I dug around behind my seat.

Finally, I pulled out the prize: Baby formula! It was exactly what he had asked me for.

I was surprised the man wasn’t ecstatic. His search had ended, the long walk was over. He didn’t even need to go to the store. He could go straight home now. The hero EMS lieutenant had taken care of all of it!

And yet I had never seen anyone so disappointed to receive exactly what he had asked for. For a moment it looked as if he was going to say something else but thought the better of it before walking away, dejected. He turned to give me a quiet ‘thank you’ before he did.

**************

A few weeks later I was approached for a hand-out while I was waiting behind another car at a traffic light. It was near the corner of a major thoroughfare and on the weekend, in the summer. It was early, around 3 or 4 am when the panhandler spoke to me through my foolishly half-way lowered window.

“Hey there boss-lady,” he said in an extremely friendly tone. “Can you please help a man out?”

Another man immediately appeared after that first one. This man tapped the first on the shoulder. “You should know better than to bother a woman all alone in her car!” Finally someone got it. If I was going to search through the seat cushions for change, and I wasn’t, he would have been the one entitled to it.

“It’s not safe out here!” the second man continued. “It’s the middle of the night, early morning even. We can’t expect a woman to roll down her window to a complete stranger!”

“But she’s EMS,” said the first man, as if that alone precluded me from the general safety concerns of other women.

“It don’t matter,” said the second guy. “It’s not safe. Would you want your daughter doing that? You should be ashamed of yourself.”

The original panhandler didn’t seem fully convinced but backed off, away anyway. When he had retreated away far enough the second guy came closer to my window. “Can you believe this guy?” he asked me, shaking his head. “But since I got rid of that guy for you, how about a small donation?” That was quite a slick maneuver I had to admit.

All this time I was behind a large SUV at the light. But the light had changed and the SUV wasn’t moving. I came to realize he was double parked but I had no real way of squeezing in between the space he had left next to him. I was essentially trapped. I noticed this around the same time a third man approach my vehicle.

“Listen, man,” said this third man to the #2 man. “This is my corner. Who told you this was OK?”

“I’m just helping the lady out,” said #2 to an unconvinced #3.

“It looks to me like you’re helping yourself out,” said #3. “You need to leave.”

A short exchange took place near the front corner of my vehicle as I desperately looked for the driver of car the blocking the road get out of my way. While I was looking around I noticed the first guy watching the exchange with interest. He slowly made his way back over.

“I didn’t leave just so that you could come over and take what was coming to me!” he announced to the #2 man with anger and great indignance.

I felt somewhat like an impala carcass being fought over by lions and hyenas. If anyone should be indignant it should be me. I wasn’t planning on handing out cash to anyone at this juncture and I was desperate for an escape plan. Now a fourth man meandered over. He seemed to come over to assist #3. This caused #1 and #2 to become temporary allies.

The angry discussion escalated very quickly in a short period of time. Fingers were pointed dangerously close to faces. Then, it was bound to happen, one of those fingers came in contact with a chest. It was barely perceptible to the average voyeur (me) and consisted only of the light brushing of a fingertip onto fabric but it was a move quickly met with more fingers clenched into a fist backed with considerable force.

#1 was the unlucky recipient of the brutal blow. He would have been smart to have remained sidelined earlier. He was the smallest of the four men and seemed to have been drinking enough to already have been impaired. #2 rose to his defense, punching back in return but #3 was a large hulk of a man who obviously used his panhandling income on gym membership. After being shoved back, #2 retreated but continued to complain and shout out angry statements.

While this was going on, I got on my radio and requested assistance for the injured man and other anticipated casualties. The double parked car in front of me had finally moved but I was still trapped at my location now that I had patient here.

The brawl had attracted the attention of several others who now made their way over. The newcomers seemed to be curious about what was going on and followed behind slowly. Some of them used the opportunity to complain about other onlookers who they were familiar with. Small little groups were forming and they were taking sides. They could also, possibly be sparring over other disagreements. All I knew was that there was a growing group of men angry at each other. Where had they all been hanging out? Why weren’t they all at home, in bed, where I wished I could be? Was this a late night for them or were they early risers?

I noticed that one of the curious onlookers was the recipient of my baby formula donation from a few weeks earlier. Shouldn’t he be home with the baby? Had he run out of formula again, already?

The fight started moving further up the street with #2 yelling and #3 following slowly. I got out my tech bag and went over to #1 and started bandaging his head. As I handed him an ice pack he told me that I was to blame for everything that had transpired. He didn’t want to, he told me, but he had no choice. He was going to sue me, personally, for what had happened to him. Benevolently however, he recommended a lawyer for me. “You used them?” I asked. No, the jingle was just stuck in his head.

What about the man who had actually hit him? #1 told me he could find his own lawyer, should he decide to sue me. “You’re not going to sue him for doing the actual hitting?” I asked.

“No,” he looked at me like I was crazy. “He doesn’t have any money. If he did he wouldn’t be out here at three in the morning. How would my lawyers get paid if he don’t have any money?”

Two police cars came to the scene and the crowd started to disperse. Several ambulances showed up behind them. My injured man got in one of them but some of the other ambulances found themselves with patients as well. A few of the onlookers decided to use this opportunity to seek care for long delayed medical concerns of a low priority. With the fight called off, they decided, they may as well go to the ER.