It was a beautiful Spring evening; the sun was flirting with dropping behind the mountains. We were sitting on the front deck of Sporty’s when a drunk rode up the sidewalk on his bicycle. In this town, that isn’t an unusual site, a drunk riding a horse up the sidewalk isn’t uncommon. But there was something different about this guy. He wasn’t a local and he had an attitude, but more noticeable was a prosthetic leg.
Heads turned as he stopped in front of the deck and mumbled to himself. Jaws dropped when his leg fell off. My eyes welled with tears and my face turned purple suppressing my laugh. “Need help?” Big Steve asked the man.
My chest heaved watching him trying to pick up his leg. I was trying to be good.
The man hopped off his bike, picked up his leg and reattached it. Two steps later the leg fell off again. I bit my fist trying not to laugh. When he threw the leg into the street, I lost it.
I ran inside and howled. Inside, customers asked what was so funny. Before tonight, I never had a clear picture of a one-legged man in an ass kicking contest. The image is now seared into my brain.
After a good Samaritan retrieved the leg, the one-legged drunk man secured it and laid on the deck in front of the door.
“Hey buddy, you can’t lay there,” I told him.
He ignored me. I threatened to call the cops, to which Mullet replied to the man, “I don’t know where you’re from, but in this town, you don’t have a leg to stand on.”
Just another night in real life Northern Exposure.