information would not be listed here. Because this is a blog. Of an artist. Not an emergency preparedness website, dumbass. I like roller skates, taking arty photos with my iPhone, peanut M&Ms, yelling at drunks and other various things. If you are ever to find yourself in the back of my ambulance, I only have two rules. Don't puke on my boots and Don't spit at me.
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Jan 25, 2011
@ 1:11 pm
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Drunk Drivers.

So, I’m gonna make a general statement, then explain, then I’m gonna contradict myself, then I will conclude this post…

I have no sympathy for drunk drivers.

None.

It’s not that hard to put 20 bucks in your shoe with the words “DO NOT SPEND ON SHOTS. THIS IS YOUR CAB MONEY” written on the bill.  I do it.  There is no excuse to get behind the wheel of a car intoxicated, or even half buzzed.  I don’t care if your wife just left you and your dog just died.  I want you to imagine saying those exact words to the police officer on the scene of the car accident where you just killed someone.  Right Now.  Imagine it.  Imagine saying those words, that very excuse while doing your sobriety test, while the Paramedics and Firefighters are working on cutting your best friend’s body out of the car you just slammed into a tree. Run that scene in your head.  Yeah, You feel like a jackass don’t you?  

I also have never met a drunk I didn’t want to punch in the nuts (or the tits).  Most are rude, covered in chunky body fluids and screaming at me.  

Now, the exception to this hard and fast rule of having no sympathy for drunk drivers are young teenagers.  Like most calls involving kids (yes, teens… you are kids, you are under 18, you even go to the pediatric ER),  they hold a special place with Medics.  Dead Kids even more.  Kids should not be dead at 16.  Even if the cause was their own youthful ignorance.  I should never have to hold a kid’s head and scream at him to hang on a few more minutes because I can’t get to his neck to fix his bloody airway.  

So, any of you teenage Tumblrs that read this, I ask of you: Don’t drink and drive.  You are not invincible.  I know I sound like your parents and teachers.  But, I’m the medic that comes to your aid.  I’m the one that has to try and put you back together.  I’m the one that has nightmares for weeks and relives the call, wondering if I did something different, would you be graduating.  I live with your ghost.  

And also we cut all of your clothes off.  ALL OF THEM.  Not because we are pervs but because A=airway, B=breathing, C=Circulation, D=Disability, AND E=EXPOSE.  I have to be able to see what the fuck is wrong with you, hence NAKED.

Okay, getting down off my soapbox.