Another Night on Fremont Street

Almost every night, someone passes out in a drunken stupor. Paramedics are a common site, as each one needs to be checked on. We've seen some amazing examples in the last few weeks, from horrific spills over bus benches, to drunken shuffles against buildings. We had to call on one of them, we assumed he was going to be a pisser, but he passed out, leaning on the gate. We tried to rouse him, but he was completely unresponsive to our prodding. We called because we feared he was in danger, and indeed, the paramedics that tended to him confirmed our suspicions. He was suffering from alcohol poisoning.

I just don't understand the draw to drink yourself into a stupor. I never cared to drink much, I never liked the sloppy out-of-control feeling. But in this town, there is no last call. Alcohol is served 24 hours a day here. The responsible drunks wait with their friends at the bus stop, laughing and waiting to go back to their beds. Sometimes they roughhouse, but mostly they are just loud as they recap the evening joviality with each other. The ones that bother me most are the ones that stumble into our lot to get into their cars. Clearly having a problem walking, we can do nothing as they get into their cars. Sometimes, these are the people that have pulled in after hours and have been towed. I am always glad when that is the case. I would gladly confront a drunk rather than watch helplessly as they drive off.

Between 11 pm and 2am, we often play a guessing game we call "Hooker or Date". We watch women dressed in near nothing, and reason out why we think they are working or out partying with their friends. I wish I could take pictures to show what I mean, but due to privacy laws, I'll just quote, "What happens in Vegas, Stays in Vegas". But we've seen it all. Fishnets, micro skirts, booty shorts, bras with no other shirt, 6" FMPs, thigh high boots, sequins, and spandex. And the variety of men they walk with, well, you would have to see it for yourself.

We also see Elvis two to three times a night. Often times, he is wearing his white spandex pantsuit,. Sometimes he is young, sometimes he's fat, and sometimes he's in plain clothes with a leather jacket. But he passes this corner frequently.

There are mall cops, security guards driving around on Segue's. They patrol around, more of a presence than a force. People stop them to ask directions, mostly. I believe they have a function, though. They know the residents and homeless in the area, and keep things running smoothly.

All in all, it makes for an interesting evening on Fremont Street.