Held Prisoner in Hampton Roads

Feeling guilty . . .

. . . or not

Work was fine today, but getting home was not. I tried bug out and catch an early bus. Unfortunately, the bus driver decided to be early also. So, I sat at the bus stop for about forty minutes, and I ended up on my regular bus. Bummer.

Once I arrived got to the park-and-ride I remembered that Mrs. Bulldog had given me direct marching orders to stop at the grocery to pick up a couple of items.

As I walked up to the store, I was approached by a rather distressed-looking woman. She wasn't a bag lady, but looked a little tired and out of sorts. My first thought was that she was looking for a handout, and I was prepared to hand over a few dollars. That's not what she wanted. She said she had been waiting for an hour, and needed a ride home.

I felt sorry for her, and decided to hear what she had to say. The place she wanted to go was at least five miles back the way I had just come. She gave me a street name, but wasn't very specific about where on the street she lived. I asked her who was supposed to pick her up, and she was a bit evasive - no straight answer, just "a friend." Because the end of my day almost left me stranded too, I was feeling a little guilty, and considered it for a minute or so.

Then I decided that she was too evasive - and that the grocery store was just across the street from the county courthouse complex . . . and the city jail. "Sorry, ma'am, I can't help you."

When I came out of the grocery store ten minutes later, she was gone. It still bothers me a bit, but I think I did the right thing.