June 21, 2004
For those of you keeping track of such things, my life pretty much hit its low point so far at around 2:45 this morning, lying sleepless on an acquaintance's uncomfortable couch, wallet emptied from a bad run of cards, my car sitting in a convenience store's parking lot a few miles away where it remained immovable ever since the battery suddenly, mysteriously went completely dead, realizing that none of it particularly mattered since I didn't have anywhere I really needed to be, anyway.
It is quite lovely out today, however, so that's something. And I suppose I could be the guy my family observed yesterday at Fuddrucker's, where we took my Dad for his day (it was his choice). As we all pulled up to the restaurant we saw two ambulances in front, and when we went inside we were greeted by the sight of two EMT's hovering over some huge old guy, must've been three-and-a-half bills, checking him out and injecting him with something or other. So that puts a damper on things, but we order our food eventually pick it up, and have a reasonable enough time. After a while my sister tell me to turn around (I was facing away from the situation) and check the guy out. Sure enough, the medics have left the building, and our huge and formerly incapacitated hero is back to work, his burger in one hand and some fries in the other, working double-time. Seriously, if I'm ever out to eat and I find myself in a situation where I need emergency care, I'm pretty sure that would be a sign for me that that particular mealtime is over. I mean, grab a freaking doggy bag and get some fresh air.
It is quite lovely out today, however, so that's something. And I suppose I could be the guy my family observed yesterday at Fuddrucker's, where we took my Dad for his day (it was his choice). As we all pulled up to the restaurant we saw two ambulances in front, and when we went inside we were greeted by the sight of two EMT's hovering over some huge old guy, must've been three-and-a-half bills, checking him out and injecting him with something or other. So that puts a damper on things, but we order our food eventually pick it up, and have a reasonable enough time. After a while my sister tell me to turn around (I was facing away from the situation) and check the guy out. Sure enough, the medics have left the building, and our huge and formerly incapacitated hero is back to work, his burger in one hand and some fries in the other, working double-time. Seriously, if I'm ever out to eat and I find myself in a situation where I need emergency care, I'm pretty sure that would be a sign for me that that particular mealtime is over. I mean, grab a freaking doggy bag and get some fresh air.
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