I was working the 6 p.m. to 6 a.m. shift when it happened. My medic partner and I had just returned from a bullshit call where someone in the projects "fell out" then decided they didn't want transported, so we rolled an ALS unit for nothing. We settled in the recliners in the crew lounge to watch "South Park" figuring we'd likely get to see the entire episode and maybe even the next one before it was our turn to go out again. It was a week-night, and as usual, not a whole hellava lot going on after midnight in that little burg by the lake.
Then all hell broke loose... pagers beeping like crazy:
"EC-41... Shots fired at 12th and Peninsula. MPD en route; ALS backup needed for West Lake EMS."
"EC-37... Unresponsive male, 1201 E. 26th. Caller reported chest pains."
"EC-42... EMS assist for EFD. Structure fire, 700 block Peach Street."
"Hey! Keep it down! We're trying to watch South Park!" my partner teased as the other crews scrambled to get rolling, then settled back down in his recliner. Once again the lounge was quiet, but not for very long. About two minutes later:
"EC-48..."
"FUCK!" Jimmy yelled to the empty room.
"EC-48... Call the comm center on the land line."
So, I did.
"What's up?" I asked Julie, one of the 9-1-1 operators on the graveyard shift.
"You're not going to believe this," she began. "An 18 year-old guy overdosed on Viagra... he's been, well, you know, for about six hours now."
Part of me, well, a big part of me wanted to start howling with laughter, and I guess a little part of me did. When I told Jimmy our call assignment, he did howl with laughter. But, really, it is a serious thing.
"What the fuck is a kid doing with Viagra?" Jimmy snickered as we rolled out of the garage and acknowledged that we were en route. "Christ! What an idiot!"