My Good Samaritan experience last Saturday didn’t turn out as well as the Jesus parable about a man going down from Jerusalem to Jericho. The man was stripped and beaten by robbers and left half dead.

A priest and a Levite saw the man and passed by on the other side. A Samaritan, however, took pity on the man, bandaged his wounds, brought him to an inn, and paid the innkeeper the next day for his stay.

The man I saw after leaving exercise was disabled and walking west on two crutches in the grass on the south side of McNeese Street near a lumber company. There are no sidewalks there.

I turned around at the nearest street and stopped to ask him if he needed a lift. Yes, he said, and hopped in. His name was William and I asked him where he was headed.

“To Lake Street,” he said, “I’m on my way to Houston.”

I assumed he was going to flag a ride near Interstate 210 but asked him if he had ever taken a bus. He said he had but didn’t have any money. I told him I would buy him a bus ticket.

William directed me to the bus station because I wasn’t sure where Greyhound was located. It turned out to be at a convenience store on Belden Street. People were sitting on the sidewalk out front, apparently waiting for the bus.

The worker inside said he didn’t sell tickets and it had to be done online. I got my cell phone out and started filling in all the ticket details. I hit the pay button a number of times, but nothing happened.

When the clerk couldn’t help, I walked outside and asked a man working at his computer what my problem might be. He asked if I had included my email address and said I would get confirmation that way.

Well, I never got anything. About that time, what looked like a new Greyhound bus with an Orlando, Fla., address up front pulled into the parking lot. Before I could talk to the woman driver, she got into an argument with a passenger waiting to get on the bus who must have said something she didn’t like.

“You’re not riding on my bus,” she told the man, but he didn’t move. When I finally got a chance to ask her how William could get a bus to Houston, she said the best thing he could do was ride her bus to Baton Rouge and make a Houston connection there. She said it would cost $70.

I went back into the convenience store looking for an ATM machine. It was in a dark corner and I couldn’t read the keypad or the instruction buttons on each side.

The clerk came around and asked if he could help. Since I couldn’t see much, he asked me to put my card in the machine and to tell him what I needed. I had to give him my PIN, but I got the money for that ticket.

When I went back outside, William was standing far away from the bus next to a light pole.

“What are you doing standing out there?” I asked. He pointed at the bus entrance where there were now two policemen. The argument the bus driver was having apparently got out of hand.

I was eventually able to hand the driver the $70 and William was apparently ready to board the bus. However, he said he needed something to eat.

“Can I get you a sandwich inside?” I asked.

“Just get me a Pepsi,” William said.

While getting his Pepsi, William came into the store.

“What are you doing in here, William?” I asked. “You’re going to miss the bus.” He was reaching for a package of cookies.

I told him to go back out to the bus and I would bring him his Pepsi and cookies. I handed them to him with two $20 bills and he was able to board. The driver helped him reach a seat up front.

I waited until the bus drove off before leaving, hoping what the driver told me was good information. I also hope William got to Houston, but I may never know for sure.

Life shouldn’t be this difficult for people like William, who is disabled and experiencing unbelievable struggles just to get by from day to day. I tried to help him this time, but what happens  next time?