Star date 05022018
I am amidst the ill an injured. The ‘lame.’ No, I am not at my audiogram appointment. I am trying to park. I am literally behind every idiot in western PA. There is only one way in and one way out of the James Street garage at AGH. AGH is what we frequenters call Allegheny General Hospital. Okay….perhaps others do as well. But today, I am amidst folks with leather driving gloves…mind you, make of vehicle matters not. Every slot is taken until the top floor. Floor 5. Here’s the design issue, you have to go to floor 5 to turn around and start the downward deramping process, in order to find any available parking spaces. Why do I know? Seriously? Asking that question now? Wow. If you are, count yourselves amongst those with extra chromosomes. In an effort to be on time to my audiogram, I left my humongous apartment (all 600 square feet…unless you rub it) to head to AGH approximately 45 minutes ago for a trip that regardless of time of day, should take no longer than 20 minutes to go 7.2 miles. Alas, nay. Nay, I say. I park. I walk. I pass idiot after idiot as I avoid all the automatic door opening devices. I make it to the 4th floor…now an hour after leaving my place. I see a sign for my latest doctor….if an audiologist is a real doctor….NOT! One sign. Leads to a doorway that has a sign posted. A first for me….not the posting of a sign, but the posting of this sign: “wet glue.” Um….this cannot be a real thing…so clearly, I head through that door. I’m a huffer at heart. I smell nothing. I see no signs of wet glue, let alone new construction. I am laughing to myself as I walk this potential gauntlet of a huffer’s paradise. It was like the Winchester Mystery House.
Sidebar. For those not acquainted with the WMH….I grew up in the vicinity of and never went. It appears we are need for such great story lines for movies, that the big screen will soon host a movie on the WMH.
I find my portal. I enter. I am 13 minutes early. I am directed from behind plate glass….from a petite woman with Texas hair, clumpy eyelashes, blue eye shadow. Not to be confused with the White Shadow form CBS days of television lore. Ah…Ken Howard. One and done. I am directed to sign in on the clipboard in front of me…whilst she completes her personal phone call. Anyone ever seen Planes, Trains, and Automobiles? The scene where Steve Martin’s character is at a rental desk at the airport?
This is all I can think of as she opens the glass. Suddenly I am hit with….nay….nay I say….I am assaulted with an odiferous scent akin only to?
I fill out my paperwork…which is repetitively redundant. They have a copy of my ID and insurance card, yet they have me write out the information from both on a form….twice. And still, I am dealing with stupid. The hearing test was as I expected. The only one I know I passed. I find it funny that at my age, I wear, nor do I require glasses or hearing aides. “I have the hearing of a newborn,” said my last doc. I suspect this time might be slightly different. All the other blemishes and deformities. The injuries. The crippling injuries.
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