Warning: This is a long story but I think you'll enjoy it.
There are many famous "Willie's." I'm guessing you know of a few:
Baseball Hall of Famer Willie Mays
Singer/ Songwriter Willie Nelson
Silverback Gorilla Willie B (okay, maybe he was only famous to those of us from the Atlanta area, but still)
We'd like to add a new one to your list.
On Saturday afternoon, Tim was out working in the shed and the kids were playing outside. I was in the house with the two little ones when Nathan and Jayla burst through the front door. I barely had time to voice my parental mantra of "stop coming in and out of this house" because Nathan began screaming hysterically for Jayla to shut the door.
"Lock it! Lock it!" he yelled. I had no idea what was going. Both kids were screaming at the same time "There's a drunk man on the porch and he wants in the house."
I looked through the little frosted window in the door (standard fare on a trailer) and sure enough there was an adult sized form standing there. At this point, I'm wondering how Tim is outside and yet oblivious to what seems to have terrified our oldest son. I'm also wondering where the rest of the children are. I called Tim's cell phone from inside and asked him to please come around to the front of the house and investigate the "drunk man" trying to get in.
Mr. William (called Willie by most) has lived in our neighborhood as long as most people can remember. He's also had a serious drinking problem as long as most people can remember. What's more -he has a severe speech impediment and is almost impossible to understand when you combine the two factors. Apparently, he called to Nathan from the street, motioning with his hand and saying, "c-c-c-come o-o-over here." Can you say stranger danger? Nathan ran for his life and drug Jayla with him.
Turns out Willie just wanted to know if he could use our restroom. Tim and I conferred and decided it was harmless enough. He took care of his business and was back on his way down the street. I took the opportunity to talk to Nathan about what had happened. I commended his quick reflexes and wisdom for not approaching a stranger on the street but shared that in his panic, there may have been a couple of things he overlooked. For instance the fact that he had locked his brother and sister outside with the "scary drunk guy." I think this really bugged him in retrospect. Nathan is more than willing to argue and fight with his siblings over insignificant issues but he has a real sense of duty and protectiveness over them when it comes to major things like fires, tornados, drunk guys, etc.
I also pointed out that since Daddy was home and just around the corner, he could've just as easily said, "I have to get my Dad" and then bee-lined to Tim's location. Hopefully, it was clear that daddy is the official drunk-man-on-the-porch-go-to-guy for future reference.
An hour or so passed and there was a knock on the door. Yep. Willie and his apparent weak bladder were back. I was reluctant but since Tim was already in the house this time (in the boys room dealing with an issue) I conceded and directed him to the facilities. A moment later, as I was getting ready to cook supper, I look up to see Willie standing in the living room, holding his shirt up, with his belt buckle undone.
"C-c-c-an I-I-I get s-s-s-ome help o-o-over here?" he asked.
I have no idea what my face looked like. I'm sure it was a cross between absolute horror and total indignation. In a split second my brain tried to process a million files of data and intuition to determine if this was true incompetence or just perversion. I decided to play it cool and safe at the same time. In the most authoritatively friendly voice I could muster I said, "If you have issues with your clothes you will have to talk to Tim." Turning on my heels, I shouted "TIM!" through clenched teeth. Tim rounded the corner and I motioned in the general direction. "I think he needs...something." Yes. Tim is also the official drunk-man-needs-help-with-his-pants-go-to-guy.
So, here's where it got crazy. Tim (and I) assumed based on the length of time he'd been in the restroom that he needed help buckling the belt back up. And that's what Tim did. Buckled him up. Then Willie turned and headed right back into the bathroom. We looked at each other in disbelief. How does this happen to us? We had the following conversation in hushed tones.
Me: What's he doing?
Tim: I don't know.
Me: Didn't you just buckle his belt?
Me: Is that what he wanted you to do?
Tim: I thought so.
Me: Are you sure he didn't want you to undo the pants for him?
Tim: Maybe so.
Me: Well, how's he gonna pee if he can't undo his pants?
Simultaneous shrugs. Tim knocked on the bathroom door and said, "you okay in there?" The answer was affirmative as best we could tell. Shortly after, Willie made his way out of the house and on down the street. We couldn't help but laugh at the sometimes bizarre mission field God has placed us in.
We also decided that this could not become a public rest area. Not because it's unbelievably strange to have people wander in off the street to use our bathroom. Only because we don't have the room for all those vending machines. ;-)