Finding Bobby Fisher

Saturday night, on our way home from a fun filled evening out in Georgetown, Nadine & I went (of course) to Manny & Olga's before retiring to Jenna & Liz's for the evening. On our way back, I noticed an unfortunate fellow passed out on the sidewalk, right around the part of the neighborhood where the crack heads piss. Not exactly a feather bed. He was our age, dressed nice, obviously this wasn't his normal stomping ground. We tried to wake him, and after a few minutes, heard some gurggles.

Nadine ran back for Jenna and Liz while I tried to flag down a cop (there are usually plenty around 14th street at that time of night). Of course, not this night. So, not wanting to over-escalate the situation, I called the non-emergency police number for DC. Does anyone out there know what that consists of? An answering machine too full to accept new messages. Yeah. So, a battle of some wills later, he was in the apartment, somewhat coherent and nursing water. We found he did indeed have a wallet. His name was Robert Fisher, and his address was in Alexandria. My hypothesis was his parents lived in Alexandria, and he now lived in an apartment in Arlington with college buddies. Anyhow, we decided that while we had him, we might as well ask him funny questions.

Me: So Robert Fisher, who'd you vote for in the last election?
Robert Fishwer: (slurring) If you broads think I'd vote for John Kerry, you've got an-.....
Everyone simultaneously: OUT!

So, we worked our way out of that hump. We got groped a few times. We finally got it out of him that he did indeed live in Arlington with "a guy and a girl....i dunno, some people."

At this point and right up until before he left, we could NOT convince Bobby Fisher (as we discovered he called himself) that we had found him the way we did. He was convinced he'd come into our lives through a common friend, Rob Brubraker or some such nonsense. He absolutely positively would not believe that we'd found him passed out on 14th street. And in fact, was really pissed that we weren't being nicer to him.

We finally got Bobby Fisher out and in a cab, we got the cabbie to agree to get him home for the twenty bucks Liz ponied up for the cause. After we'd convinced him of the situation at hand, and offered to write him a note retelling the tale (which he declined), Liz took a moment to for the cause.

Liz: You know what Robert Fisher? A republican would never have helped you like this tonight.
Bobby Fisher: You're right. I wouldn't have.

As he was leaving, he asked me how he could pay us back "or whatever," to which I replied,

Never do this again, Robert Fisher.

Moral of the story: Boys are irresponsible drunks who let their friends wander, and democrats are good humanitarians. And, we completed the task the movie title set out years ago.