Had to call 911 today for a man who was laying in a parking lot (live)

[snakeinmycar]

Not on the grass, not on the sidewalk, IN the parking lot. On his back. With no shirt or shoes. On the hot pavement. I nearly hit him with my car when I was trying to go to the ATM because I did not see him. I tried calling the non-emergency police number (which went to voicemail), so then I called 911. The woman asked me for his description and asked me if he was breathing (I didn't know, and I wasn't close enough to check) so then she said she was dispatching "everyone." I said before you potentially mobilize a bunch of unnecessary resources, let me actually confirm his status. I went over and yelled at him. No response. I yelled again. Slowly, he started to move, then he passed back out. I told the dispatcher that he was alive and she confirmed "he's alive?" to which I told her yes. I saw the firetruck coming and then I left the scene.

The drugs must be something fierce now for a person to think that laying on hot asphalt is preferable to the grass right next to it. I'm shocked and amazed at the fact that I'm the only person that seemed to give enough of a damn to call 911 for this guy, at the fact that this happens in Florida (surely this only happens on the west coast and in blue cities and states, right?) and the fact that the 911 dispatcher seems to get so many of these calls that she seemed mechanical and nonchalant about asking if the guy was breathing or even alive.

What in God's name is going on in this place?