Tuesday, October 26, 2010

they've outsourced 911!

I got stuck in traffic today at a red light that wouldn't change.  Since it was taking a while, and the light happened to be at the bottom of an interstate exit ramp and cars were backed up onto the highway, I thought I'd call 911.  Maybe it was because I wasn't on a traceable land line, but auto-woman answered and said, "Please say the name of the city in which you have an emergency."  After a stunned moment, I said, "Wichita."  Then a real woman picked up and said, "You have an emergency in Wichita?"  I told her yes and then told her about the light at "I 135 and 13th."  She said, "I'm sorry; did you say an interstate?"  DON'T YOU KNOW?!?!?!?!?! I thought, but all that came out of my mouth was "Yes."  Apparently, I am polite to strangers even in an emergency.  I explained, and she asked another question or two, leading me to believe that she really wasn't local.  I'm sorry, but I'm old enough for that to be scary.

They've outsourced my brain!
Later I picked up a prescription and the cashier rang it up and said, "That'll be $7.32" (or whatever - it was generic).  I smiled, said "Okay," and just stared at her.  A few beats later, I said, "Oh! So pay you!"  In spite of the previous story I am going to blame this on my familiarity with technology and say I'm so used to paying with my debit card that I automatically (ha ha) waited for the cashier to push a button and the total to show up on the little screen.  But I paid in cash, so I just looked like an idiot.

Best news article closing:  "Mee is no longer suffering from the hiccups, police spokesman Mike Puetz said."

And in the TMI category:
I guess I'm also old enough now that needing to pee is not a thing to be taken lightly or put off until later.  I had to go so bad when I was driving home earlier that it was very distracting; who knows, maybe that light was fine...what mixed with yellow makes red?  Don't worry, I made it.  But it reminds me of one of my favorite stories:  when my brother was little (10 or 12 years old - okay, maybe younger) and newly potty-trained, he didn't like to interrupt playing to go to the bathroom.  He'd wait until the last minute, then we'd hear the pitter-patter of little feet running for their life, the sound of the toilet lid going up and slamming into the tank (he's polite in emergencies, too), and then the sound of pee along with a loud, little-boy sigh of relief.  He said I could post this.