Test Driving Scrubs & Sports Cars

The day started out innocently enough with breakfast at 10 AM. Then DFT and I had a quick chat to figure out what we were going to do today. It went something like this:

"I think I'm going to clean up the outside of the house with the pressure washer."

"I'm going to clean up my office and throw away all the clutter that I've been staring at for the past six months."

Beat.

"We could go test drive cars..."

"We should stop by the hospital and pick up scrubs first."

"Done."

We took off shortly there after in the direction of a one of the hundreds of hospitals in town that also happened to be on the way to several of the hundreds of car dealerships in town.

DFT and I figured out my "story." Should we get questioned during the scrubs mission, he suggested that I was a classmate from med school who was in town and interested in touring the hospital. Done.

I suggested that my back story for the car salesmen was vascular surgery. Orthopedics was my first thought, but then I figured someone might ask me to examine an ACL or give a consult on a torn rotator cuff. No dice. I was a vascular surgeon for the day. Who knows anything about that besides a real vascular surgeon?

Apparently XXL is the most preferred, or least common, pair of scrub pants in the hospital. We were able to quickly locate a XXL top in the first locker room but the matching bottoms were no where to be found. Shit. They did have XXXXXL bottoms. I hopped into those, and we continued to the cardiovascular men's room to search out the XXLs. Nope. There was one locker room left to check; it could be dangerous. Of course we had to check in it.

There are two places in a hospital where security is super tight - anywhere they store drugs and in the baby wards. The OBGYN locker room was the last locale where we may find the XXLs. Love my XXXXXLs as I did, I really needed some smaller pants.

We circumvented the Nurses' Station by wandered through a labyrinth of cream colored corridors before arriving at the back door of the OBGYN ward. I couldn't help but thinking, "This must be how Luke Skywalker felt wandering around on the Death Star," buscept no one had guns in this hospital, and I'm pretty sure DFT and I could bullshit our way out of any scrutiny.

We found the locker room. No OBGYNs around; I guess I'd have to wait to question them about if they get tired of looking at nahnees all the time. I swapped my bottoms, but held on to the XXXXXLs just because they're so cool. Who knows when I'll need pants big enough for two?

I was just telling DFT how surprised I was with the ease at which we'd accomplished our little covert mission. Then, we passed two cops on our way out the door. Then, we passed another security guard in the garage. Then, we drove past the security patrol vehicle. Then, I finally started breathing again.

But, it was easy. However, I should point out that none of this would have been possible without DFT's badge. And, for the record, this type of access was not illegal, unorthodox maybe, but not illegal. People tour hospitals all the time - they just don't get to take home such a sweet outfit.

We were really pleased with ourselves. Really, really, really pleased with ourselves. I can't speak for DFT, but this level of "pleased with myself" rivals the feeling I used to get when I would walk out of my high school chemistry class, past the Vice Principal, hop into my MG-BGT (parked in the teacher's lot) and head out to Taco Town for lunch. I'm 34, but I felt like I was 17 and skipping AP English again. Holy shit! I'm old.

"What are you going to tell the salesman when he asks about your Vans?"

"Oh, I like wearing these because the footbed is so wide it holds my orthotics well. Yeah, they're still comfortable even after you've been standing in the OR for a couple of hours. Plus, I don't have to worry about them coming untied since they've got Velcro straps."

The first salesman started trying to break my cover immediately.

"So, you guys doctors?"

"Yep."

"What kind of doctors?"

"He's in anesthesia. I'm a vascular surgeon."

"So you fix the ugly veins in people's legs?"

"Yeah, but that's kind of boring. The fun stuff is taking a piece of one vein and putting it somewhere else - like making a new aorta."

"Wow. Doesn't that gross you out?"

"It's kinda weird at first, but you get used to it."

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's not nearly as bad as the formaldehyde cadaver smell in school."

There's no way I was getting busted - especially by a dude like that.

We'd needed an exit strategy because the salesman was way too talkative, and we had more cars to drive. DFT was behind the wheel of a new Volvo C30 (we'd seen one at a light decided to drive it), and we were just about finished with our test drive when my phone buzzed. Perfect timing.

"That was Zamora. They've got Mrs. Jones in pre-op. We've got to get back."

Off in a flash, we headed to the Porsche dealer.