Thinking

There is nothing more disappointing than burning a CD and then getting home and realizing that it didn't actually burn.

Stupid anti-piratical office computer.

Arrg.

Stormy Weather

Dear Blog Readers (If any of you are left besides Tom and my sister),

I have grown to appreciate you a great deal more in the past twelve hours. Because you see, gentle readers, I have faced death. Twice. I almost got friggin' killed. Twice in the past twelve hours. And it was scary as hell. Really.

So, as you probably all know, I do not relish flying. Nor do I pickle, lettuce, mayo, or cheese it. And yes, I know those are not all condiments. My blog, my corny jokes. Regardless. I don't like to fly. At all. But I have to, and I do. Without restraint. Because I refuse to let my fear rule me. And also because flying is the fastest way out of Alabama so I'm totally up for it. And because of my job. Fine. Cool beans. I don't like it, but it's ooookay.

One of our surgeons, coincidentally a surgeon mentioned here before, Dr. ACP (see last post) is a pilot in his spare time. So, if I go on a case with Dr. ACP, besides basking in his radiant Australian glow I am also able to feel better about flying because I know that if worst comes to worst (what a stupid saying. What the hell does that even mean anyway?) he can hop up in the pilot seat and get us home. I know this because it's happened. Not to me (THANK GOD I WOULD SO NEVER SET FOOT IN A PLANE AGAIN IF THIS EVER HAPPENED TO ME) but to a couple other coordinators. They were in a relatively new plane, took off, and the engine exploded. In midair. Coordinators were screaming, shrapnel was flying from the plane, and what did Dr. ACP do? Told everyone it was fine. Talked the pilots through the landing. And those same coordinators still fly. (C-R-A-Z-A-Y.) Dr. ACP has also had landing gear fail to deploy and has had to land without it twice, and has been in a helicopter crash. Upon reflection I'm thinking maybe I shouldn't be with him cause he seems to be a magnet for air transportation accidents.

Anyways. So, tonight we were leaving on a case and it was just Dr. ACP and me. woo. My first lung run by myself. woo. We're on the way to the airport and the pilot calls.
Pilot: "Hey, where are you guys?"
Sam: "We're pulling into the airport, why?"
Pilot: "Ok, we just wanted to make sure you were going to get here in time."
Sam: "In time for what?"
Pilot: "If we don't take off in the next ten minutes, we're not going to make it. There's a huge storm rolling in."

At that point I decided to avert my gaze to the angry angry heavens and sure enough, it was black outside. With occasional lightning (also, just to let you know, I just typed "lightnight" because that is how tired I am) strikes. Instantly I'm ready to say, "umm....flight cancelled." But no. Dr. ACP says it'll be fine. Oookay. I do trust him a lot. He's a pilot, he's a transplant surgeon, he has an accent, what's not to trust? So, I get on the plane. And that was the worst mistake of my life. We take off...we're literally taking off and he shows me his phone with the weather radar on it. It looks like the apocalypse over Alabama. You know, if the apocalypse was actually being run by the Crayola company instead of the four horsemen. There were many angry angry colors on that radar. I incredulously enquired as to whether we would be flying into that. "Ohh, no no. We'll go round it." Oookay. As soon as we're in the air, he looks at me and says "we're gonna bump." I said "ummm, when?" "oh, while we're going around the edge of the storm. nothing to worry about." Okay, so apparently, "bump" is Australian, or code, or a damn dirty lie that means "fall out of the sky." The plane was all over the friggin' place. I was absolutely terrified. But Dr. ACP was okay, so I was trying to be okay. I can speak calmly about this now because I'm alive. I would totally not be able to had I died. Because I would be dead. And probably mute. Probably.

So, we made it to Indiana. woo. I was pretty happy to be out of the plane. I really wanted to hug the pilots and just thank them for me being alive. But I suppressed it. (go me.) Went to the hospital, did my first solo case, woo. It was fine, exhausting, but fine. The person getting the organs had been on the list for almost two years. Which is insane for lungs. Usually you die before that. So I'm thrilled about that, totally worth the trip.

And then it was time to go home. And they said that by the time we got there the weather would be gone. Lying bastards. We're flying home, lights are out, Dr. ACP's asleep, I'm listening to the iPod, it's all good. And then the plane falls about 100 feet. Just falls. I scream. Dr. ACP buckles in. The plane literally bucked all over the place. I mean, hard. I honestly have never been more terrified in my entire life. And I was in the trunk of a car as it was rear-ended. This was scarier. Soo much scarier. And I know. You're probably thinking I'm exaggerating, because honestly, I'm realizing that everytime I've ever complained about a plane ride it was an exaggeration. Because this was the real thing. This was my near-death experience. Really. Because when you land and the pilots are high-fiving eachother and yelling "woohoo!" you know that about 20 minutes ago they probably thought they were well fucked. I know I did.

So, in closing this long and insanely rambly post (it is 240 in the morning...cut me some slack) let me just give you a few tips.
1. Don't fly in bad weather.
2. If you are flying in bad weather, don't try to eat. It's a bad idea. Trust me.
3. Don't try to hold hands with a surgeon just cause you're scared. He won't go for it.
4. Always wear clean underwear. (That's just good hygiene.)
5. Make sure you actually are in the process of meeting your maker before shouting profanities in front of your boss's boss. (I'm sure that one's going to come back on me.)

Okay, that's all for now I guess. Really, I hope you guys skimmed this one. It's wayy too long. Laters!

We Adore You

Today was the first day of consent training at my job. Consent is a huge deal in my line of work. It's also hella hard. Because you're going up to someone who has just (often suddenly and tragically) lost their loved one...and asking them to give you something. Which sucks. You've already lost something, and you've got someone (me) coming up and asking you to willingly give something else. That being said, our boss decided to fly in a group from Seattle to do consent training with us. These people are professional actors, and they are amazing. One of the actresses can just start crying anytime. No provocation. Just tears. It's insane. But these people are a bunch of tree-hugging hippies. Very touchy-feely.

So, the day began:

Bald Guy in Charge: "Okay everyone, before we begin, there's something that I want you all to know. On behalf of the actors and myself I'd like to say this so that it's clear. And you may not want to hear this right now...you may not be able to hear this right now. But I want you to think about it and maybe you'll be able to hear it later.
Samantha's Internal Dialogue: "Um...huh? Hear it later? I can hear him. Who doesn't hear him?" looking around for deaf people
BDiC: "So, we know who you are...and we adore you."
SID: "Huh? Is he stalking us? What the hell is he talking about? How does he know who I am?"
BDiC: "Let me say it again. We know who you are....long awkward pause....and we adore you."
SID: "Is this dude for real? I can't deal with this touchy-feely crap."
BDiC: "We know who you are. And we adore you."
SID: "Oh my God how many times is he going to say this? Adore us? Good lord."
BDiC: "Okay, that being said, let's begin." blah blah blah

And thus began my day. So freakin' weird. Later exercises included bragging about yourself for a full minute (easy when joking, really hard when you're supposed to be serious) and "acknowledging" others...meaning crap like "I see that you're a caring person and I acknowledge you for your compassion...blah blah blah." Then we did an exercise meant to show us the random and sudden nature of death. You had to take three pieces of paper and write the names of three people you care about. Then hold them in your hands while the "grim reaper" wanders around and randomly steals your papers thereby killing your people. All my people got killed. Which kind of sucked...because I never really think of losing these three people all at once. Honestly, I think I'd really lose it if that happened. But, it was just pieces of paper, so we're good.

BDiC: "Those of you that have lost people, how does it feel?"
SID: "Dude. It was pieces of paper."
Stupid Education Girl: "It hurts."
Other Stupid Education Girl: "I really feel more compassion for the donor families now that I understand how it feels to lose someone so suddenly."
SID: "YOU THINK YOU UNDERSTAND DONOR FAMILY LOSS BECAUSE SOMEONE STOLE YOUR PIECE OF PAPER?!?"
Formerly Chunky Girl: "Yeah, it's really sad boo hoo"
SID: "Oh my God is she crying about the papers?!??"

Then we did some role-playing with the actors. I got consent from my family (go me) and it wasn't any problem. Of course, they said that tomorrow we face our "nightmare scenarios." Honestly, my nightmare scenario at this point consists of me having to sit in a room with my stupid coworkers another day. So I guess tomorrow will be my nightmare scenario.

Stupid training.

First Call

I was on first call last night. Meaning that anytime anyone in the country had a crappy organ to give away, they called me and tried to get me to take it. No deal people. No deal. Through the course of the night, the lung surgeon (who I have a major "if i were only 40 years older" crush on) and I had several conversations.

Call 1 of the night:
Dr. Australian Cutie Pie: Hey Sam, whatcha got?
Me: Backup lung offer
Dr. ACP: Is it any good?
Me: You're the surgeon! I don't know if they're any good!
Dr. ACP: laughing Okay, give me the offer.

Call 3 of the night:
Dr. ACP: Hey Sam, what's up?
Me: Lung offer
Dr. ACP: Any good?
Me: Nope. Unless you want a lung that's been smoking for 40 years.
Dr. ACP: G'night Sam.

Call 7 of the night:
Dr. ACP: Hello?
Me: It's no good.
Dr. ACP: Okay. G'night.

So I was up all night. With various crappy offers. But I kept telling myself "you're off tomorrow...you're off tomorrow...off call at 7 AM...you can sleep all day." And then I awakened to reality. At 7:30 AM. Because I live in a hellhole which is becoming a condo complex.

I woke to what sounded like someone trying to drive a pickaxe through my bathroom wall. And hammering in the apartment to the right. Which means right into the wall where my bed is. I need to move. ASAP. Because I can't wake up to this every morning. And also, my water's turned off. Undoubtedly in relation to the bathroom pickaxing. Bastards. So, I'm up. I can't take a shower. I can't brush my teeth. I'm a hostage in construction hell. I think today would be best spent apartment hunting. Because sweet Jesus I just can't take it anymore. Also, the owner of these condos is freaking me out. But that's another post. Laters!

An Open Letter

Dear Orbitz,

Over a month ago, I purchased airline tickets through your site. Your site was recommended to me by someone (I cannot remember who, because if I could, I would at this moment be flogging them mercilessly) and since the tickets were going to be expensive anyway, I just went ahead and bought from you guys. I am usually a customer of Southwest Airlines, but since they don't fly to my intended destination (hey Southwest, go to Boston you jackasses) I had to try my luck with another carrier. So, I logged onto your site, and found the least expensive tickets possible...that didn't involve me spending two days en route. And here is where the saga begins.

This is probably mostly my fault. Southwest has spoiled me. Their first-come-first-serve seating policy has treated me well. Because I am a very punctual person. I get to the airport hella early, check in, and almost always have my pick of seats. (Really southwest, go to boston, i love you guys...and i hear you got new leather seats.) So, buying airline tickets that already have assigned seats kind of threw me off. But what really threw me off was the absolute crappiness of my seating. And the consistency of that condition. It's not like I had a crappy seat on one of my flights. No. On all 4 of my flights. ALL 4!! What's up with that?!?

On the flight from Birmingham to Atlanta (a, thank GOD, 28 minute flight) I was seated in the dreaded "middle" seat. I don't think Southwest even has middle seats cause the planes are all so small. Regardless. I hate to fly. And we had the world's worst pilot on the way to Atlanta. (But I don't blame you for that Orbitz.) Anyway...I am a flailer. If I think I'm falling out of the sky (which I thought several times over the course of the flight) I move my arms. Which meant that I popped the people next to me a few times. The plane made strange noises and at one point I threw my arms up and actually said pretty loudly "What in the name of God is WRONG with this plane?!??" I'm sure that helped the poor little girl who had never flown alone sitting right next to me. Poor thing. I told her I was very sorry they sat me next to her. I told her to blame you, Orbitz. She might send you a letter. So, I think your website should have something that lets you stipulate whether you want a window, aisle, or God forbid, middle seat.

Also, I think you should be able to choose your section of the plane. For instance, given a choice I'd say that the odds of me trying to reserve an engine seat were pretty low. Meaning that flight from Boston to Ohio where I sat pretty much on top of the engine, was not all too pleasant. I tried to look out the window and was greeted with a giant white engine and some screws of questionable stability. I think screws in airplanes should be pretty uniformly screwed in. Apparently the mechanics had a varying opinion. Regardless, not being able to see out the window freaked me out. And I probably spent waaay too much time contemplating the screws.

Finally, I think lavatory seating should be reserved for those with gastrointestinal problems. And believe me, those people were on the plane. I know because they walked right past me several times. And stayed in the lavatory a while. Both flights on the way back I was close enough to the restroom to have the chunky people hitting me while they tried to squeeze in the door. Honestly Orbitz. Really? Twice? In one day? I think that's a little wrong.

So, in closing, I am none too thrilled about my travel conditions. Luckily the in-between time made it totally worth it. But you don't get credit for that Orbitz. You get credit for me sitting between a bathroom and a grizzly old hobo man who smelled like gym socks. It's not a good thing Orbitz. Something to think about.

Sincerely,
Samantha

PS- Feel free to send travel vouchers to make it up to me. You may win me back yet ;)