“Is this an emergency vehicle?” he spat at me before I could say hello.
I slowly turned my head to look up at the rear of Medic 9 towering over us. Red and yellow chevron stripes, seven multicolored flashing LED lights, snakes and staffs on blue Stars of Life. I turned back to him and raised an eyebrow. He was uninjured, unhappy, and a bit unhinged.
“Hello. I’m Mack505. Im a paramedic with the fire department. So why are we here?”
“I can’t take you seriously with that mask on,” he gesticulated at my face. I waited, and he launched into a tirade. Poor road conditions, inconsiderate drivers, his job, the police officers, the weather, my partner and I, and somehow the Registry of Motor Vehicles formed a torrent of grievance.
It culminated in “Why are you keeping me here?” screamed at us.
“I’m not,” was my reflexive reply. “What about you, Officer?”
One word: “Nope.”
He stomped away as we shook our heads. “Operations, Medic 9. We’re clear. No patient found.”
Today’s Wayback Machine:
May 29, 2015 – Requalification
May 29, 2014 – Wordless (Thursday)
May 29, 2012 – Carpe Granitum*
Notes from Mosquito Hill 