Drinking and Driving

I had a rather interesting experience last night.

I stepped out from a friend's party to drive out to Murray to meet Jenry, the brother of one of my mission companions from Peru. (Yes, it is spelled Jenry, though it is pronounced "Henry.") He had brought a small package of goodies from Miguel, my companion, and wished to give it to me. Jenry is here in Utah for three weeks to do some training for his job and is staying at the house of Joey, who once lived at Jenry's house in Trujillo when Joey was a missionary.

Everybody got that so far?

But this was not the "interesting" part! Alas, I had a hard time finding Joey's house. In fact, I drove all the way up and down Highland Drive trying to find it, getting lost multiple times. I was saddened to learn that the old Villa Theatre - the one where I saw (and was traumatized by) Raiders of the Lost Ark as a kid - has now been turned into Habib's Middle Eastern rug outlet. Really. (At least, I think that's how it was spelled.)

Still lost, I called Joey on the phone. We agreed to meet in the parking lot at the Macy's store near Murray-Holladay Road, which I knew for a fact I could find.

We have still not arrived at the "interesting" part. It gets better.

I soon arrived at the parking lot. I didn't know it at the time, but I was a few minutes ahead of my friends. Though I had talked to both Jenry and Joey on the phone, I had no idea what they looked like. So, when I arrived in the mostly empty lot and saw a man standing there next to his car, I automatically assumed it was Joey, and perhaps Jenry was in the back seat where I couldn't see him.

Except it wasn't Joey. He began to approach me, and as he came closer, I soon realized that this man was in his 40s or 50s. Also, he had Idaho plates on his car. Also, he was drunk as a skunk.

This man told me that his car had a flat tire. I glanced at it and saw that he was right. He then asked me for a ride to his house, which he said was five blocks away. Since he had Idaho plates, I was skeptical. And a bit scared. I told him that I was meeting some friends and that they would be there any moment, so I couldn't help him. I am not the kind of person who is comfortable giving rides to strangers, let alone ones who look like they will puke in my car - or worse. But he insisted. He said he needed a ride right away and basically demanded that I take him where he needed to go. He even came up to the passenger-side door, and I'm sure he would have opened it if it hadn't been locked. I was even more scared.

In an answer to a prayer, Joey, Jenry, and their other friend, Jeff, pulled up right at that moment. Yes, I hang out with guys who have "J" names.

The point of this story - and I suppose I have one - is that it is important to try to be a Good Samaritan. I have no issues with helping out someone in need. But there is also a time when that's not a good idea at all. When a voice inside tells you not to help a certain someone, you should do that, too.

One other thing: Alcohol - and perhaps Mountain Dew - is the Official Drink of Hell.

P.S. Today marks the six-month anniversary of The Epistle of Jon. W00t! I will be signing autographs in the foyer.