We picked up a patient from a car wreck a few days ago. Pretty typical call, really: 21 year old kid, thinks he's bullet-proof, and since he's a man he had himself a few beers while out chasing girls (who, for some strange reason, declined his advances.)
How the young women mustered the self-restraint to turn away a 21 year old kid with a tatoo on each finger of his left hand that spells out F-U-C-K, smells like cheap beer, is wearing a white ribbed cotton tanktop undershirt, camo pants, and cowboy boots, has a rusted Ford Escort that passed "old" 15 years ago, and thinks he's the greatest crooner since Tony Bennet is beyond me. I was of half-a-mind to suggest he remove two of the letters and claim to be a University of Kentucky fan, but I kept my mouth shut.
Anyway, our self-styled George Clooney-meets-Mario Andretti hops in his car, and fires up those 4 cylinders. Although I can't prove it, 5 will get you 10 he popped the clutch and squealed the tires as he left the bar..... because chicks dig that sort of thing, I suppose.
Mr. Clooney-Andretti proceeds to find himself on the backroads of Arizona, which have more curves than the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit issue, and .... surprise, surprise .... loses control. Car into ditch, resulting in (as the technical weenies would say) an unintended forceful cranial-windshield interface.
Somehow, our hero manages to get himself to the road, and flags down another car. The bystanders, well-meaning, call 9-1-1. During this, Hero managed to call his sister to let her know....what? Who knows. But he called his sister. And apparently she's on her way to the hospital.
Enter us: "Hey, guy. Where ya hurting?"
Hero: "My head. Where's my sister?"
JB: "I suspect she'll meet you at the hospital. Let's get you sitting down before you fall, m'kay?"
Hero: "OK. Where's my sister?"
JB: "On her way to the hospital. Any trouble catching your breath? Does your chest hurt at all?"
Hero: "No, I'm fine. Where's my sister?"
JB: "Told ya, she's on her way, and will meet you at the hospital. Lemme listen to your lungs.... OK. Any pain here in your belly?"
Hero: "Some, yeah. Is my sister here?"
JB (exasperated, and more than a touch sarcastic): "Nope, she's on her way to Vegas. Got tickets to Blue Man Group, and staying at the Bellagio. Said she hopes you feel better soon."
Hero: "You're a jerk."
Why is it that drunks only remember things that piss them off?