It was well after midnight in Pioneer Square, downtown Seattle.
I'm walking the Nightwatch beat in my clerical collar. At the corner of First and Yesler, I see a homeless guy on his back, flopping around like a fish in the bottom of a boat.
Now, having worked for a few years in a health care setting, I've seen lots of people having seizures. This guy looked like he was having a tonic-clonic episode.
I lean over him. "Hey, buddy! Buddy! You all right?"
Now, if he WAS having a seizure, he's not going to speak to me, so I'm not sure what I thought. His eyes were closed and by this time he's jerking, jerking, jerking.
He opens one eye and looks at me, hovering over him, worried.
"I'm . . . just. . . working. . . on. . . my. . . abs."
Alrighty then. . . on to the next crisis.