Saturday
night, and the town centre has reached that tipping point between the closing
of the pubs and the opening of the clubs, when everyone’s drunk as much as they
need or want, taken as much as they need or want, and spilled out onto the
streets, loaded with just enough to make the distance between here and there.
It’s an impressive, natural phenomenon, a migration along ancient pavements, pineal
glands fizzing like sparklers.
Alexi
hasn’t quite made it, though. She’s in a heap of friends on a bench in a
pedestrianised street, but it’s difficult at first to work out who’s who
amongst the tangle of flamingo legs, spangly tops, fright mascara. Somehow,
almost by weight, Alexi rises to the front, surrounded by anxious faces &
words.
She was unconscious!
She has a head injury!
She fell over!
Help her!
Oh my god!
Alexi we love you babe…
Alexi is
the least concerned of all of them. When I touch her on the arm and lean in to
figure out if she’s the patient and if she actually needs any help, she leans
in to me in a mirror image of concern.
‘I didn’t
call you!’ she says. ‘Whoever you are.’
‘We’re
the ambulance, Alexi. Your friends say you banged your head.’
‘I did.
I fell over in the toilets and banged my head. But I’m fine. Honestly.’
‘Would
you mind coming on the ambulance and having a chat? It’s a bit noisy here.’
‘Fine.’
The way
her friends react you’d think I was inviting Alexi into theatres to have a
heart transplant.
Oh my god!
Shall I call your mum?
Is she going to hospital?
She was unconscious, officer
Alexi we love you babe…
A
biblical wail as I shut the door.
Alexi
flops down on a chair, pulls out her phone and starts texting.
‘Alexi?
I won’t keep you long. I just need to find out what’s happened and whether you
need hospital or not.’
She
lowers the phone, and then squints at me.
‘Hospital?
Why’m I going to hospital?’
‘You’re
not, at the moment. We’re just trying to figure out what happened. Your friends said you fell over and banged
your head.’
‘I did.’
‘Where?’
‘In the
pub toilets.’
‘Have
you hurt your head?’
She
leans forward. I root around her extensions, but don’t find anything other than
glitter.
‘I didn’t
call you,’ she says, straightening up again and flicking her head to settle her
hair back in place. ‘This is so embarrassing.’
‘What do
you remember about the accident?’
‘I don’t
want to remember it, thanks very much.’
‘I need
to hear you tell me what happened.’
‘God! I
went to the loo. There was a big queue. I was dicking around. You know. Kung fu. But there was a load of water
on the floor and I slipped over and bumped my head. That’s it. About a thousand
people saw me do it. I just want to go home and kill myself.’
‘Your
friends seem to think you were knocked out.’
‘I wasn’t.
I may have closed my eyes for a bit to make it go away, but that was all.’
She
frowns and leans forward to look at me again.
‘Who d’you
say you were again?’
‘The
ambulance, Alexi. How’s your vision?’
She
snorts.
‘All
over the place. But I think that’s probably the vodka, mate.’
‘Any
nausea, vomiting?’
‘No. I’m
fine. I’m fine. Look – can I just go,
please? I’ll sign anything, anything you like.’
We
release her back into the wild.
Her
friends close around her, bear her away in a shrieking mass
Just as
I’m about to get back in the cab, a woman from the pub comes over. She’s
wearing a fluorescent armband, but I don’t think she’s a bouncer. She carries a
clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other.
‘Not
going to hospital, then?’
‘Er –
no. She bumped her head in the toilets, but her recall’s fine, she’s not
showing any concerning symptoms, she doesn’t want to go to hospital, so…’ I
shrug and smile. The woman doesn’t return it.
‘So – not going to hospital.’
‘No. She
doesn’t need it.’
The
woman frowns at me.
‘In your
opinion.’
‘In my
opinion.’
The woman
writes something on the form, and talks as she does it.
‘Alcohol plus head injury, but in medic’s
opinion, doesn’t need hospital.’
‘No,’ I
say. ‘She’s fine.’
The
woman clicks her pen.
‘Let’s
hope so,’ she says.
7 comments:
I instantly became defensive on your behalf...'how dare she imply you're negligent!' Great story telling as usual. :)
Wow. Ominous much, Clipboard Lady?
I love the analogy of wildlife to nightlife. "Releasing her back into the wild" gives such vivid imagery.
Thanks tpals!
I was a bit taken aback - but I suppose it's just a buck-passing exercise. In fact, I don't doubt there was a box on her form: buck successfully passed. Tick.
Hey Cassandra
Yep. Clipboard Lady. Latin name: formfillius scrupularum. Essentially harmless, but can become a hazard if given a uniform. :/
Did you ever see that wildlife documentary the crimson wing? All those flamingos arriving at the lake? That's just what it's like!
Hey Spence, glad to have you back at the keyboard! But even gladder that you seem to have thoroughly enjoyed your vacation.
I imagine you could have "clipboarded" back the lady, writing "representative of establishment that sold alcoholic beverages to victim did not insist on trip to hospital after not calling the ambulance either.."
Either she would have whooshed back inside or it would have escalated into a sort of clipboard battle...
I love the idea of a clipboard battle, MTV. Like Gladiator, in the Colosseum (but with clearly marked fire exits & tape on the steps). Released from cells into the arena under the hot sun. You'd progress through all the legal niceties, the crowd cheering you on, until finally you'd end up using the clipboards as shields and jabbing at each other with your pen.
It's surprising the number of people who think you can & should simply cart people off, regardless what the patient thinks or what is / isn't wrong with them. I think in their eyes the very fact that an ambulance has turned up is proof there's something seriously wrong; to send it away is just madness!
In your opinion? ho ho ho.
Clipboard and arm band = omniscient
I think having a clipboard is the key to anywhere. You don't need anything else. Just a clipboard, and a certain manner...
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