To The Rescue!

Earlier this week I posted a phrase that I seem to be saying a lot these days. Quite honestly, I've been saying it for years. Someone thought it might be from a movie - Fast Times At Ridgemont High, for instance. No, it was uttered to a friend by our favorite neighborhood barman.

Way back in the early 90's a good friend (we'll call her Cathy) and I lived in the West Village in NYC. This was pre-super rent increase (though rents were still astronomically high) and we had a local bar that still maintained a regular (not yuppy) clientele and regular bartenders. The jukebox was fantastic, the beers cheap, wood-paneled walls, and the best burgers ever. Hands down. No kidding. It was such a happy place...

One night we were hanging out as usual and there was another woman who was falling down drunk, literally. At one point she collapsed on the floor. Cathy, being a lifeguard during the summers, moved into full-on rescue mode and dialed 911. While waiting for the ambulance, the woman's friends picked her up and carried her out of the bar.

The ambulance arrives with two very laidback EMTs who have come to rescue the fair maiden. Who is now gone. Cathy talks to them and tells them that the woman has been carried away by her friends and apologizes for bothering the EMTs. They're pretty cool and tell her no problem. Dude. Off they go.

Cathy is feeling a bit stupid for having reacted so strongly. I assure her she did the right thing, the woman had literally collapsed. Tommy, the bartender leans over and in his thick Irish brogue says:

"Next time someone does something crazy like that, you see that she's breathing, check her wallet for money, then ask her 'what are you smoking, and can I have some.'"

Words of wisdom.