You are an asshole.

Sunday evening, my husband and I were about to sit down and enjoy or pretend-it's-summer meal, consisting of brats (the sausage, not the snot-nosed child), sauerkraut, baked beans and pasta salad when our pagers started vibrating. I just ignored it, thinking that it was 6:00 - normal time checks - but of course no such luck. With a heavy sigh and a select few words, we hauled our sad little faces out to the truck. At least it is a PI, right?

As we roll on scene, him in the engine and myself in the first response vehicle, we see two cars. One in the ditch, and one in the middle of the highway, extensive damage to both. Of course in the back of my mind, I get a little excited because who doesn't love a good PI? Anyway, I check vehicle #1, no patient. I walk over and check vehicle #2, no patient. Say it with me now... WTF?

Command acknowledges my look of confusion and hand gestures that accompany one's questioning of the whereabouts a missing patient, and points to the business just off the highway. I assume this is where my patients are hiding, er staying warm and trot over.

The ambulance was around the corner so I checked there. No EMTs and definitely no patients. Inside I see one young man laying flat on his back and white as Michael Jackson, about 18 other people standing around him, and two cops, trying to sort through the mass of people.

This is the part where I shine. Me and my big fat mouth. "If you were not DIRECTLY involved in this event or have super x-ray vision, please step outside... NOW!" Silence then the golden sound of shuffling feet. (This is a reason why if someone needs something from across the scene, they ask me to holler. I have skillz. Mad skillz.)

Package pt #1. No major damage, minor neck pain with a decent size piece of glass taking residence in the back of his noggin. Tra la la. Easy cheesy, right?

But wait, there is something missing... Think! Think! Think!

Two cars = at least two patients... Aha! Where the hell is the other patient?

I shall refer to pt #2 as Mr. Daniels. Mr. Jack Daniels to be exact because I hate the stuff and I hate it when patients run from the scene. After being apprehended and gently placed in the rear of the deputy's car, he is suddenly suffering from ball splitting shoulder pain. (Amazing how uncomfortable those pesky handcuffs can be.) He was transported to the hospital and also seen by the ER doc, but quickly released back into the custody of the PD.

So what is my point?
Pt #2 is an asshole. Why you ask. These are a few of my reasons.

Reason #1: He ran from an accident that HE CAUSED. That pisses me off. I now have to spend my time looking for your sorry ass when you clearly do not want my assistance.
Reason #2: You smell like you took a shower in three week old booze then rubbed some cigarette ashes in your hair then had sex with a dirty hooker. You stink. It's gross.
Reason #3: You are clearly drunk and all I get to say is 'suspected ETOH' when I want to say "this asshole just crossed the center line and caused a head on collision because he couldn't call a f*cking cab."
Reason #4: My dinner is now cold and I probably now being enjoyed by my dog.
Reason #5: Because I said so.