OLD Encounters

I had the weirdest experience last week which made me ponder about my take on people, especially the senior ones.

Let me tell you about this old lawyer. His office was located at the second floor of the public market’s administration building. For the month of June alone, I must have dropped by the building twice because I needed to get the police report on the hit-and-run case involving my dear ZeeWee.

This lawyer that I’m telling you about was the one who notarized my dealer’s documents last January and because we needed a lot of copies of the documents, we had all the copies notarized. It was my first time to meet the old avocat. He may be nearing the octagenarian stage but I wasn’t bothered at all until he began to rise up from his seat.

I was with my dealer rep that time and we were talking to the office clerk who was busy preparing our documents to be signed by this lawyer.  Then we noticed the old lawyer emerging from his old typewriter. He stood up and walked towards the door. He had a very slow stride, his feet moved only 3 inches from each other and by the rate he was going, the 3 meter distance was like the Boston marathon.

I began to feel uncomfortable by the sight of an old man walking. For one, he never spoke a word to us. Two, his limbs were trembling like crazy, it kind of reminded you of Muhammad Ali and Michael J. Fox’s Parkinsons. Three, he had a powder blue cotton pants on, which was paired with a faded pink top and four, the certificate from the Clerck of the Supreme Court which was hanging from the double wall had a name which can be found in Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana. What is also weird is that another certificate was still hanging on the same  wall and it belonged to his officemate, a trial lawyer who have already died a long time ago.

The most outrageous part of the experience: After 48 years of walking towards the door, he stopped behind it and stood still. I noticed a bit of sound from the movement of his arms, a sound of belt being unbuckled, a zipper being opened and a fly being parted. It was a very awkward moment, although I could sense what the old man was about to do, limbs shaking and body trembling and all, I immediately shifted my chair to face the office assistant and began a conversation with her.

Just as I was about to adjust my seat, I saw his blue cotton pants free-falling down to his ankles and I shivered in disgust when I saw a worn-out white jock straps on his hips. What frightened me also was the ugly sight of bad ass that looked like huge raisins or preserved plums or a deflated cheek. The man was peeing at a corner.

It took him forever to pee. And in that process the butt exposure was really long. I couldn’t take it anymore. So I went out of the office, pretending that I needed to call someone on the phone, and proceeded to the hallway.

Outside, in the corridor, there’s an old woman sitting about. I figured it out. She made these very weird “popping” sound that was very annoying. It was from her rhythmic chewing and mouth-popping that made me want to leave the lawyers office for a bit. And she sat just right outside the room. 

She must have sat there for ages. Her chewing and “popping” activity had made weird patterns on the concrete floor. She even spat a lot, making several wet marks around her. I’m not quite sure if she had relatives but i think she may have been abandoned. I’m not quite sure if she had a house either but it’s possible that she made the corridor her sleeping quarter.

I fear that she’s a little bit detached and demented. I could not even understand why I suddenly became too bothered. I was really disturbed, not because of the sorry state that they’re in but because I was afraid of what I would become when I reached my 60’s.

Like the old lawyer whose family picture’s still framed and placed on the wall. Not a single one of them took care of him. Or they may have cared enough to hire someone to take care of him. And this could be the office assistant who might be a caregiver at the same time.

I wasn’t so sure if the old man has a house to come home to. I saw a little sleeping cot at the corner of the office. Maybe that office could be his dwelling place, probably the last place he’d be seeing before his final breath.

Scary. I just dont want to be lonely and sorry like them.