Somewhere about 5:37am and the intersection of 900 So. 200 East, an odd thing happened. On my way to my radio show, a pedestrian, a woman, was crossing the street very slowly and awkwardly. Turns out, she wasn’t trying to cross at all.

She approached my vehicle and I, thanks to years of training of driving in Boston (and in particular, Roxbury) and a brief trip to Los Angeles, proceeded to give her the double hand/head shake. Doing this, you have about a 50/50 shot of deterring the person from cleaning your windshield with a cloth that looks to have also been used as a diaper, or from selling you single roses that died four days ago. This woman was either not familiar with my signing or was damned persistent. I noticed she was crying and cracked the window.

“Please, sir, can you give me a ride? I need a ride. I’m barefoot and pregnant.” Both were clearly true, save the socks she wore, but I don’t generally enjoy driving strangers around town before 6am. I offered to call an ambulance for her; she repeated the above line (and I hate being called “sir” by strangers) and mentioned she only wanted to go to West Temple (Street), about four blocks away.

Quickly, I ran through what my Mom might say about the situation (WWMD?)… Never pick up strangers, but can I leave a pregnant woman in socks? I gave in. She got in, reeking of booze, and I drove her the four blocks and let her out at the 7-11. I am unsure where she was heading; she was visibly shaken, and the only destination I can think of is the Indian Walk-in Center, which provides free health care. However, I don’t believe it was open that early and anyway, she didn’t ask me to drop her there. Maybe she just needed a slurpee, but the four blocks seemed a long way without shoes.

In any case, it was an unsettling start to the day.