“She’s out of control.”
Five feet tall, one hundred pounds soaking wet, beautiful and twenty-five, how bad could it be? She had tried to go to a popular nightclub in the Silver Lake section of Providence. Showed her money, hugged the bouncer and staggered in the doorway. They wouldn’t let her in. She threw her cell phone and thirty bucks at the bouncer, started screaming. Security got involved, couldn’t control her and called for police and rescue. We arrived before the cops. She was all over the security guard at this time, hugging him, all luvvy duvvy.
“She’s all yours,” he said.
“I’ll handle this,” I said to Ben, my partner for the night. “I speak the language of love.”
I figured my Sesame Street Spanish, boyish good looks and uniform would be all I needed to tame this wild Spanish dynamo. The Spanish speaking Security Guard looked doubtful, Ben shrugged and stood to the side.
“What are they saying, anyway?” I asked Ben, who is fluent in Spanish.
“He’s telling her she’s too drunk to enter, she says she wants to party, he says she can party tomorrow, she wants to stay.
“I’m all over this.”
“Ola, mami,” I said, big smile on my face. “Estas Buena mama sota!”
I think I said hello, lady, you look very beautiful. She looked me in the eye, got all silent for a moment, broke free from the security guard and opened a full assault of the boyshly charming Spanish speaking idiot who stood in front of her. Fortunately, my cat-like reflexes are still intact, I sidestepped a few punches, dodged the spit, stepped away from the kicks and ran away.
“Stupid ugly American!” she shouted as Ben grabbed her and kept her away from me.
“I thought you didn’t speak English,” I said, keeping my distance.
“Want me to take over?” asked Ben.
Within a minute he had her on the stretcher, calm as can be and cooperating. She was getting very friendly, I called for assistance. It’s never a good idea to transport a single intoxicated aggressive female alone in the back of a rescue.
Engine 6 arrived, Ed got in back with the wildwoman and Ben, and I drove. It’s been a while since I had been behind the wheel, and I wasn’t too familiar with Rescue 2′s district. Being a cagey veteran I radioed our mileage before leaving the scene, no sense leaving anything to chance.
“Rescue 2 to fire alarm, transporting an intoxicated female to Rhode Island Hospital, mileage 216112.
“Message recieved rescue 2, to Rhode Island.”
I left the scene, took what I thought to be a shortcut through the neighborhood and promptly got lost in the maze. Two miles later I reappeared on the main road, found the highway and delivered our prize to the ER.
I transmitted our ending mileage to fire alarm and hid in the front while the guys finished the job.
If nothing else, things like this keep me humble!
Always let the cops get to bars first because there’s a slight chance that they might actually arrest the drunk assaultive person and not decide she has something that needs to be treated at a hospital. Slight.
You left out the part where it was an emergency. I think she’s moved my way, and with her friends.
Wow yeah, she needed a cell not a stretcher! I don’t understand why you were called? We always go first and if needed we call rescue from the scene!! Or the FD stages while we assess and go from there! As for directions, if it werent for IMC maps, I would be sending my guys every which way but the right way!! Have a safe Labor Day !!
Think you’d better brush up on your Spanish, Michael. It wasn’t something you’d want to say to a lady. I barely remember any Spanish. I never used it so I’ve lost much recall of it. I’d say you got her attention though. Yikes.