So, the ambulance driver next to me in the front seat turns and asks, “Is everyone is your family creative?”.
I reply, “Well, a lot of them are, yes. My brother has always drawn and recently got a job as a marketing director. My sister says she isn’t, but she is a teacher, so I tell her that she is, because you have to be creative to be a good teacher…”
He smiles, “Yes, that’s true..”
“And one of my cousins is a graphic designer for a newspaper…”
The driver laughs, “My family has to be the least creative family ever! Stick figures are about as good as we get.”
“Well, my parents aren’t really involved in making visual art. My mother is an R.N. Right now she’s a manager of a nursing home. Cameron and I gave a talk to the clients there one time and he put on an over-the-top accent on. It was a hit.”
“Ahh! A bit Crocodile Dundee, eh?”
“Yep. He he… And my father is an sports official. Actually, one of the Australian footy players was in a game with his team, The Green Bay Packers. I’m sure he saw it, so I’ll have to tell him that we watched some footage of it last night.”
The “ambo” as they call them here, laughs and says “Now that’s more up my alley!”
As the paramedics get Cameron out, the driver says to Cameron, “Well, I heard you were a hit at the nursing home, with your accent.”
Cam laughs and says, “Well you’ve got to do it, otherwise they all think you’re bloody English!”
I stand beside Cam who is on the gurney, noticing his glazed eyes. He is puffing on a pain relief inhaler that they call a “green stick” and he waves it at me, looking both high, and drunk, at the same time. “HERE.. TRY it.. You’ll LOVE it!”
My eyes smart from the fumes and I politely decline. (The first of 10 or 15 polite declines this morning.)
The rather pretty female paramedic, who Cam was chatting up in the back of the ambulance, tells us that she thinks it smells like a “texta” aka permanent marker.
Cam says it tastes minty.
I agree. It smells VERY minty and VERY MUCH like a permanent marker.
Mixed with 3,000,000,000% proof mint shnapps.
Cam looks over at the driver (not that he could see anything clearly at this point) and says “HEY! That guy was the one who drove the ambulance when you had your manic episode. You should kiss him!”
I raise my eyebrows quite high and respond quietly, “Well, I don’t really remember him.”
“Go on! Kiss him.”
I turn to the medical staff in the E.R. bay and ask , laughing, “What is IN that thing?! I’ve never seen him like this.”
The driver smiles and says with a wide grin. “We call that THE PARTY DRUGS.”