The bag lady.

"I can't find them! Where are they? My daughter is going to be so mad at me!" - I am standing at the corner of Eastern & Owens waiting for the light to change when I glance right and notice a bag lady having a conversation with herself -- "How am I going to tell my daughter I lost the earrings she gave me? She is going to be so upset! Please Lord let me remember where I put them." - Her voice had now changed from frantic to somber.

Bag ladies are a common sight in the neighborhood so seeing one having a conversation with an imaginary person, believe it or not, is par for the course. The light changes and I begin walking. That's when I hear - in an extremely sad tone -- "Jesus, please forgive me. I didn't mean to lose them. I am just so careless!"

I don't know what is more common in Las Vegas - people getting shot, or run over. People getting shot - you know - shit happens. But being run over by a car is 99% preventable! Now I'm a few steps into the intersection and she is standing at the corner in hysterics. A thought suddenly goes through my mind - "What if she is so upset and wanders out into the street and a car hits her? How would you feel if you turned on the news tomorrow and saw something like that? How could you live with yourself?"

I immediately turn around and say - "Ma'am, the light is on to cross. Are you going to cross?" After my query she shakes her head (as if she is bringing herself out of a fog). She looks towards me and says, "Thank-you - I am sorry. I lost the earrings my daughter gave me when she was a girl. Yes, I need to cross the street. Hopefully I will find them." - I then grab her elbow gently and both of us walk in unison across the intersection. After we safely cross I ask if she will be okay. "I will be fine," she says politely, "Thank-you for being so kind. You are such a polite man."

We chat a few minutes and then I tell her I must go. As I am walking away she yells - "Thank-you again for helping me! You are a very kind! Have a blessed day!" - I smile and continue my trek home.