Code 2 for vomiting. Specifically, in the restroom of a public building. Strangely enough, this building is always open, and the single restroom is available for all to use. It is, of course, 2am.
We arrive at exactly the address reported. No one is there. Not in the restroom. Not anywhere.
So we’re standing around about to leave, and an apparently homeless man with a backpack approaches without difficulty from several hundred feet away, waving his hand.
“Did you call us?”
“I’m ill. I’m going to have to use the bathroom.”
“Well, your ambulance is here.”
He doesn’t say anything else, walks right past us, into the building and into the restroom.
We all look at each other. Huge medical emergency as usual.
So we’re all standing around waiting for him. A couple of minutes go by. He opens the restroom door and pops his head out. I can see that he’s temporarily set up camp inside.
“Are you ready to go?”
“Are you going to treat me?”
“What? I’m not treating you in there while you’re doing your business. If you’re ready to go, let’s go.”
“Well, you don’t seem like you want to treat me. Even back when I walked over from that other building.”
“You weren’t even where you said you were, so why would we think you’re the patient?”
“I don’t need your services anymore. You guys need to think about the way you treat people.”
“Don’t ever call us again.”
“Fuck you, I’ll call you whenever the fuck I want.”
“No you won’t.”