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Gena wanted me to share the story, and I finally got around to writing it. It took longer than planned with everything else going on. Funny how such a short event can take so long to write out. Now I have some idea what AA goes through, though I will not let up in giving him crap for taking so long to get the books out. Speaking of which AA, hurry up and get book 4 finished! It took me a little bit to figure out how to write it, figured Gena wanted more than, “Some crazy drunk guy tried to drink his beer in the wagon”, so I did the best I could. Just hope my grammar teacher never reads this. I think I spent more time trying to figure out grammar and punctuation than anything before giving up on it. The names, locations, dates, and other identifier information has been changed to protect the guilty. Hope yall get a laugh or two out of it and just remember, this story is true and it happens every day in just about every city across the country.
Sitting in the passenger seat in good ole unit 51 on another cool Saturday afternoon in January. Staging, a fancy word for sitting and waiting, in the same shopping center parking lot in Old Town as every other day for the past 3 months. It is your standard shopping center, several restaurants, clothing stores, fast food chains, electronic stores, and grocery chains. You name it and it has it. This shopping center is on the edge of what I will call the upper end of the lower class. The neighborhoods next to the shopping center are not the worse, but I would not live there. The shopper center needs lots of upkeep and looks a little rough. Parking lot could use some repaving and the buildings could use a fresh coat of paint. There are also plenty of homeless people hanging around the area. My partner Jack and I are just sitting, watching the traffic and people going by, waiting on a call. As usual, one of the regular guys we transport, Bob, walks out from nowhere to his street corner. I swear they have caves around these shopping centers that they crawl into with their liquor, then they drink until they are drunk and pass out, and then they come crawling back into the parking lot when they start getting tremors from not having a drink in a few hours. That process repeats day after day. That's why no one sees them anywhere but the street corners, they are in the caves when they are not panhandling. Bob stands on the corner for an hour, receiving a couple bucks from a few gullible people sitting at the stoplight thinking they are helping him buy a hot meal. Most people in EMS are wiser than this and know the money with just end up in a brown bag. After an hour or so panhandling on the corner, he heads across the parking lot and into the local grocery chain, probably to get another 12 pack to keep him warm. Our alarm goes off and Jack and I head out on our next call. 2 hours later we come back to our little corner of the world in that big parking lot. Bob is back on the corner trying to earn his beer money again.
We watch as a black SUV pulls up to the stoplight. It is full of young trouble makers from one of the local ethnic groups. Bob starts walking towards them with his sign. Their windows go down and we can see them yelling and pointing out the window and it looks like Bob was yelling back at them as he throws his sign on the ground. Jack looks at me and asks, "You want to go to the other side of the shopping center before the bullets start flying?" "No." I said, "Might as well watch, at least we can call the medics and PD faster if we watch and they start shooting." Luckily the light turned green and the SUV took off, obviously finished having their fun at Bob's expense as they are laughing as the squall the tires going through the intersection. Bob turns around and start's walking towards us. "Crap." I said, “Don’t make eye contact with him, look down, just don’t look him in the eye. Maybe he will just keep walking past us if we don't look him in the eye." "Too late." Jack laughed. Bob walks up to my window. I sigh and roll it down. "What's going on Bob?" "Did you see that? Those jerks in that car won't give a guy a break. I stand out there all day for $15, can't catch any break. Tell you guy’s what, you can have my pack, my bag, my money, and my clothes, just drop me off at the cemetery because I have had enough. Just take me over there and drop me in a grave and you can have all my stuff." The strong odor of alcohol started to flood the cab of the ambulance as he talked.
I look over at Jack and roll my eyes. Jack starts to smirk at me knowing it’s my turn to tech (be in the back with the patient). I look back at Bob, “Want us to take you to the hospital Bob?” “I guess.” was his response. “Which one do you want to go to today Bob?” “City Hospital I guess.” “Alright, get in the back.” Jack looks at me, “Want any help?” “No” I sighed, “Give me a minute to get a set of vitals and then we will roll”. “Alright, I will put Bobs’ stuff up front in the passenger seat.” Jack responded. I climbed in the back with Bob and started the vitals while Jack loaded Bobs’ sleeping bag (which was loose and not in a bag), his backpack’s and other bags of stuff into the passenger seat. It took up the entire passenger seat and was even up against the windshield. After I finished taking Bobs’ vitals, I yelled at Jack that we were ready to start headed towards City Hospital. As we started to pull out of the parking lot, Bob yells, “Hey stop, where is my stuff?” Don’t worry Bob, Jack put it up front.” I told him. “Tell him to pass my beer back here; I want to drink it on the way.” He said as he started to like he was going to reach through the opening to the cab to grab his stuff. I just shook my head and chuckled. “You know I can’t let you do that Bob, I would lose my job over it.” He just sighed and relented to my surprise, most of the time he does not give up so easy and gives you more trouble than that. That was actually the mellowest I have seen him, most of the time he gives everyone a hard time. The rest of the ride over to City went uneventful, I just had to listen to Bob’s story again about how his family is a bunch of losers and assholes for not helping him out and let him live with one of them. He goes on and on about how he hates his family because they will not help him, and they will only help him if he stops drinking, and they have no right to tell him to stop drinking and he hates them more for that. Just the typical chit chat in the back of the bus with one of our regulars.
After we make it to City, we help Bob to a wheelchair and take him into triage. We get him signed in and give our report to the triage nurse. We head back outside to start wiping down the seats. The worst part is it will smell like liquor for the rest of the shift in the back of the bus. I guess when it is the only thing you consume ninety-eight percent of the time, I guess you will start having alcohol come out your pores, which it turns makes everything he (and all other like him) touch smell like beer. It’s either that or he swims in it, either are possible. After we finish cleaning up, we clear the call and head back to our parking lot and wait for the next adventure of a lifetime to walk up.
Fast-forward a couple months, me and my new partner Dan, or Froto as I like to call him due to him being the shortest guy at work, and even shorter than some of the gals as well, were sitting in the parking lot across the street in a fast food parking lot. The fast food joint is across the street from our normal parking lot. We like to get a change of scenery once in a while. I am sitting in the back as we are training a new guy, Zack. Froto is up front with Zack going over some of the procedures and giving a general overview of things. There is not much to go over with him since he has been in EMS for several years, Zack and I actually went to EMT school together, he is just new to the company. I am just chilling in the back with my laptop connected to a wifi hotspot. We had not been sitting there for 2 minutes when I hear Froto and Zack talking to someone. I peered my head around the captains chair (the chair behind the driver seat that faces out the back of the ambulance) to get a better listen. From what I can hear, someone is asking us to take whoever it is to the hospital. At the same time, our radio goes off and county has a call for us. Even though Froto is one of the trainers, he seemed overwhelmed about what to do. I told Froto to tell county we have a walk up that is requesting to be transported and they need to get another unit for the call they sent us and that I will get out and check on the guy.
While Froto is talking to county on the radio, I hop out the side door and what do I find? If you had guessed a very drunk Bob, you win a cookie. He was so drunk he could hardly stand let alone talk. “Bob, what’s going on?” I asked him. He could only mumble. “Want us to take you to the hospital?” He nodded his head, at least that’s what I took it as since he is swaying so much to keep his balance it looks like he had turrets. “Which one we going to today Bob? “Couunnny”, was his slurred response. “Do you want to go to County Hospital?” I asked him. He just nodded his head and mumbled something about getting his stuff and started walking behind the building to the bushes about 40 feet away. I went up to the passenger door and told Froto and Zack that he wants to go to County and is going to get his stuff from behind the building. I said I would go and help carry it since he normally has a big pile of stuff. I headed off towards the bushes Bob was behind; it looked like he had been staying for a couple days, and asked if I could carry anything for him. “Nah, I got it.” He slurred. He bent over to pick up something and then I heard the unmistakable sound of “Phssst crack”, the sound of a can being opened. I see bob stand up and tilt his head back. I stood there, dumbfounded for a second and then started to chuckle to myself. “He remembered he could not drink it on the way from last time we transported him, guess he wanted to chug it before going this time.” I thought to myself. “Bob, we need to hurry up and get going so we can finish up and help other people.” I told him. “I know, won’t take me, uh, take me a second to finish it.” Bob was able to stammer out. I stepped behind the bushes with him as he finished chugging his Coors Light. I look down and saw what was left of his 12 pack sitting in one of the bags that the hospitals give you to put your clothes and other items in after you go to the ER. Bob finished his can and grabbed his bag and started headed to the bus, leaving behind about 3 unopened beers in the bag. I was just smiling and shaking my head the whole 40 feet there.
As I opened the door for Bob to get in, Froto and Zack got out and said they were going to ride in the back so Zack could get another training call checked off. After Bob got in the back I laughed and told them that Bob cracked one open and chugged it while he was getting his bag. Froto and Zack just shook their heads as they got in with Bob. I laughed all the way around to the driver’s seat. I climbed in and buckled up, waiting for the go ahead from Froto to start rolling towards County Hospital. After they finished getting vital signs they gave me the go ahead to start rolling. After we pulled up to County Hospital, I got out and grabbed a wheelchair. We helped Bob out, who was now even more wasted. I was surprised he had not passed out by no. We got him in the wheelchair and took in side and turned him over to the nurse. After we got our paperwork signed and cleaned up the seat, we headed back out wondering what next great adventure lies ahead, just hoping the adventure does not include lice.
The End, until next shift.
Just was sitting here thinking, wonder if I could get Bob to sing "wheels on the bus" on the way to the hospital next time I transport him?
If I decide to do another one, might be about the girl flagging us down like she was hailing a taxi cab, asking if we were "one of tose trucks dat has dat oxygin on it?" My 12 year old cousin loves this story and cracks her up every time, mainly because of how I say "oxygin" trying to imitate the patient. She gets to laughing to much I cannot do the voice with it most of the time because I get to laughing to much myself.
Sitting in the passenger seat in good ole unit 51 on another cool Saturday afternoon in January. Staging, a fancy word for sitting and waiting, in the same shopping center parking lot in Old Town as every other day for the past 3 months. It is your standard shopping center, several restaurants, clothing stores, fast food chains, electronic stores, and grocery chains. You name it and it has it. This shopping center is on the edge of what I will call the upper end of the lower class. The neighborhoods next to the shopping center are not the worse, but I would not live there. The shopper center needs lots of upkeep and looks a little rough. Parking lot could use some repaving and the buildings could use a fresh coat of paint. There are also plenty of homeless people hanging around the area. My partner Jack and I are just sitting, watching the traffic and people going by, waiting on a call. As usual, one of the regular guys we transport, Bob, walks out from nowhere to his street corner. I swear they have caves around these shopping centers that they crawl into with their liquor, then they drink until they are drunk and pass out, and then they come crawling back into the parking lot when they start getting tremors from not having a drink in a few hours. That process repeats day after day. That's why no one sees them anywhere but the street corners, they are in the caves when they are not panhandling. Bob stands on the corner for an hour, receiving a couple bucks from a few gullible people sitting at the stoplight thinking they are helping him buy a hot meal. Most people in EMS are wiser than this and know the money with just end up in a brown bag. After an hour or so panhandling on the corner, he heads across the parking lot and into the local grocery chain, probably to get another 12 pack to keep him warm. Our alarm goes off and Jack and I head out on our next call. 2 hours later we come back to our little corner of the world in that big parking lot. Bob is back on the corner trying to earn his beer money again.
We watch as a black SUV pulls up to the stoplight. It is full of young trouble makers from one of the local ethnic groups. Bob starts walking towards them with his sign. Their windows go down and we can see them yelling and pointing out the window and it looks like Bob was yelling back at them as he throws his sign on the ground. Jack looks at me and asks, "You want to go to the other side of the shopping center before the bullets start flying?" "No." I said, "Might as well watch, at least we can call the medics and PD faster if we watch and they start shooting." Luckily the light turned green and the SUV took off, obviously finished having their fun at Bob's expense as they are laughing as the squall the tires going through the intersection. Bob turns around and start's walking towards us. "Crap." I said, “Don’t make eye contact with him, look down, just don’t look him in the eye. Maybe he will just keep walking past us if we don't look him in the eye." "Too late." Jack laughed. Bob walks up to my window. I sigh and roll it down. "What's going on Bob?" "Did you see that? Those jerks in that car won't give a guy a break. I stand out there all day for $15, can't catch any break. Tell you guy’s what, you can have my pack, my bag, my money, and my clothes, just drop me off at the cemetery because I have had enough. Just take me over there and drop me in a grave and you can have all my stuff." The strong odor of alcohol started to flood the cab of the ambulance as he talked.
I look over at Jack and roll my eyes. Jack starts to smirk at me knowing it’s my turn to tech (be in the back with the patient). I look back at Bob, “Want us to take you to the hospital Bob?” “I guess.” was his response. “Which one do you want to go to today Bob?” “City Hospital I guess.” “Alright, get in the back.” Jack looks at me, “Want any help?” “No” I sighed, “Give me a minute to get a set of vitals and then we will roll”. “Alright, I will put Bobs’ stuff up front in the passenger seat.” Jack responded. I climbed in the back with Bob and started the vitals while Jack loaded Bobs’ sleeping bag (which was loose and not in a bag), his backpack’s and other bags of stuff into the passenger seat. It took up the entire passenger seat and was even up against the windshield. After I finished taking Bobs’ vitals, I yelled at Jack that we were ready to start headed towards City Hospital. As we started to pull out of the parking lot, Bob yells, “Hey stop, where is my stuff?” Don’t worry Bob, Jack put it up front.” I told him. “Tell him to pass my beer back here; I want to drink it on the way.” He said as he started to like he was going to reach through the opening to the cab to grab his stuff. I just shook my head and chuckled. “You know I can’t let you do that Bob, I would lose my job over it.” He just sighed and relented to my surprise, most of the time he does not give up so easy and gives you more trouble than that. That was actually the mellowest I have seen him, most of the time he gives everyone a hard time. The rest of the ride over to City went uneventful, I just had to listen to Bob’s story again about how his family is a bunch of losers and assholes for not helping him out and let him live with one of them. He goes on and on about how he hates his family because they will not help him, and they will only help him if he stops drinking, and they have no right to tell him to stop drinking and he hates them more for that. Just the typical chit chat in the back of the bus with one of our regulars.
After we make it to City, we help Bob to a wheelchair and take him into triage. We get him signed in and give our report to the triage nurse. We head back outside to start wiping down the seats. The worst part is it will smell like liquor for the rest of the shift in the back of the bus. I guess when it is the only thing you consume ninety-eight percent of the time, I guess you will start having alcohol come out your pores, which it turns makes everything he (and all other like him) touch smell like beer. It’s either that or he swims in it, either are possible. After we finish cleaning up, we clear the call and head back to our parking lot and wait for the next adventure of a lifetime to walk up.
Fast-forward a couple months, me and my new partner Dan, or Froto as I like to call him due to him being the shortest guy at work, and even shorter than some of the gals as well, were sitting in the parking lot across the street in a fast food parking lot. The fast food joint is across the street from our normal parking lot. We like to get a change of scenery once in a while. I am sitting in the back as we are training a new guy, Zack. Froto is up front with Zack going over some of the procedures and giving a general overview of things. There is not much to go over with him since he has been in EMS for several years, Zack and I actually went to EMT school together, he is just new to the company. I am just chilling in the back with my laptop connected to a wifi hotspot. We had not been sitting there for 2 minutes when I hear Froto and Zack talking to someone. I peered my head around the captains chair (the chair behind the driver seat that faces out the back of the ambulance) to get a better listen. From what I can hear, someone is asking us to take whoever it is to the hospital. At the same time, our radio goes off and county has a call for us. Even though Froto is one of the trainers, he seemed overwhelmed about what to do. I told Froto to tell county we have a walk up that is requesting to be transported and they need to get another unit for the call they sent us and that I will get out and check on the guy.
While Froto is talking to county on the radio, I hop out the side door and what do I find? If you had guessed a very drunk Bob, you win a cookie. He was so drunk he could hardly stand let alone talk. “Bob, what’s going on?” I asked him. He could only mumble. “Want us to take you to the hospital?” He nodded his head, at least that’s what I took it as since he is swaying so much to keep his balance it looks like he had turrets. “Which one we going to today Bob? “Couunnny”, was his slurred response. “Do you want to go to County Hospital?” I asked him. He just nodded his head and mumbled something about getting his stuff and started walking behind the building to the bushes about 40 feet away. I went up to the passenger door and told Froto and Zack that he wants to go to County and is going to get his stuff from behind the building. I said I would go and help carry it since he normally has a big pile of stuff. I headed off towards the bushes Bob was behind; it looked like he had been staying for a couple days, and asked if I could carry anything for him. “Nah, I got it.” He slurred. He bent over to pick up something and then I heard the unmistakable sound of “Phssst crack”, the sound of a can being opened. I see bob stand up and tilt his head back. I stood there, dumbfounded for a second and then started to chuckle to myself. “He remembered he could not drink it on the way from last time we transported him, guess he wanted to chug it before going this time.” I thought to myself. “Bob, we need to hurry up and get going so we can finish up and help other people.” I told him. “I know, won’t take me, uh, take me a second to finish it.” Bob was able to stammer out. I stepped behind the bushes with him as he finished chugging his Coors Light. I look down and saw what was left of his 12 pack sitting in one of the bags that the hospitals give you to put your clothes and other items in after you go to the ER. Bob finished his can and grabbed his bag and started headed to the bus, leaving behind about 3 unopened beers in the bag. I was just smiling and shaking my head the whole 40 feet there.
As I opened the door for Bob to get in, Froto and Zack got out and said they were going to ride in the back so Zack could get another training call checked off. After Bob got in the back I laughed and told them that Bob cracked one open and chugged it while he was getting his bag. Froto and Zack just shook their heads as they got in with Bob. I laughed all the way around to the driver’s seat. I climbed in and buckled up, waiting for the go ahead from Froto to start rolling towards County Hospital. After they finished getting vital signs they gave me the go ahead to start rolling. After we pulled up to County Hospital, I got out and grabbed a wheelchair. We helped Bob out, who was now even more wasted. I was surprised he had not passed out by no. We got him in the wheelchair and took in side and turned him over to the nurse. After we got our paperwork signed and cleaned up the seat, we headed back out wondering what next great adventure lies ahead, just hoping the adventure does not include lice.
The End, until next shift.
Just was sitting here thinking, wonder if I could get Bob to sing "wheels on the bus" on the way to the hospital next time I transport him?
If I decide to do another one, might be about the girl flagging us down like she was hailing a taxi cab, asking if we were "one of tose trucks dat has dat oxygin on it?" My 12 year old cousin loves this story and cracks her up every time, mainly because of how I say "oxygin" trying to imitate the patient. She gets to laughing to much I cannot do the voice with it most of the time because I get to laughing to much myself.
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