Another Day at the OfficeFollow

This is a story I wrote up for another board I frequent. It is fairly indicative of what I go through on a daily (or nightly) basis. I hope you like it.

It’s 0200 Sunday morning and as we lift off the pad I can’t help but wonder what carnage awaits us in the dark. Did Cletus try to pilot his Harley home all liquored up and get introduced to Mr. Oak? Did Biff try to take the straight line through the switchback in his Beemer and get introduced to Mr. Peterbilt? Or was it Clem and the boys missing a turn in their pick-em-up truck getting introduced to Old Lady Johnson’s living room? These are but some of the thoughts that swirl as we set up an orbit over the pretty red and blue light show. We switch to the ground freq and I wait with bated breath for what will surely be an entertaining LZ brief.

Me: "Chief 511 do you see the helicopter?"
Chief: "Yup."
Me: "Can you give us an LZ brief?"
Chief: "The LZ’s a field."
Me: "Ok where do you want us to land and are there any hazards?"
Chief: "Land down here." (seriously)
Me: "Ok where down there?"
Chief: "In front of the police car."
Me: "Chief we can see 6 or 7 police cars, which one?"
Chief: "The state police car."

At this point as I try to remember if any of my recon/recce classes in the military covered how to determine the jurisdiction of a police car from 500 feet in the dark I ponder the public relations ramifications of asking Chief to kindly hand the radio to someone else and go find himself a Pepsi. Mercifully my conundrum is solved as a fresh voice comes over the net.

New Chief: "We’re setting up an LZ in the field, you should see the flares any second," followed by a succinct, textbook brief covering hazards, approach and departure angles, surface composition and local canine mating habits.
Me: "Bless you, new guy!"

So I land the mighty noisemaker and bring the motors to idle. The crew gets out and disappears off towards the pretty lights while I try to figure out what we’ll weigh with a 350-pound patient (first rule in EMS – every American over the age of 9 weighs at least 350 pounds). As I slide the abacus back under the seat I look up and standing not 2 feet from my windscreen in the dark is SGIAFFH (Some Guy In A Fire Fightin’ Helmet). Curious I open my door and wave him over.

Me: "What are you doing?"
SGIAFFH: "They told me to stand where you could see me," as an added bonus SGIAFFH has to yell in my ear to be heard and apparently he had Squirrel sautéed in Cod Liver Oil for din din…nice.
Me: "Do me a favor and stand out to the side outside the rotor arc and make sure no one approaches the tail rotor."
SGIAFFH: (With a look that implies I just asked him to construct a low yield nuclear device using only items he can find in the field) "Huh????"
Me: "Were you on the radio earlier?"
SGIAFFH: "Huh?"
Me (pointing): "Walk that way 30 feet and stop."
SGIAFFH: "Ok!"

Turns out it was Cletus tonight and Mr. Oak as usual won hands down, by the way 375 pounds.

Totem

I'd love to be one of those people that sits in the emergency room every nite and gets to see all of this. I miss my hospital... to bad the hours are sh[/b]it, the pay is sh[b]it and I'm not much of a people person.

lol Hey, I'm the perfect person to tell a druggie to GFThemselves when they come in looking for drugs. Also gotta love the GOMERS..

lol keep it up mikkle.. sooner rather than later I'm going to be able to rate and then.. poof sub-default for your sock puppet ***.

Woo hoo! Chand to the rescue!

You do realize your everyday work reads like an adventure movie?

Yes! I am jealous. Sounds like an exiting profession.