...or perhaps not. It all began when a convivial night of drinking, chicanery, cupcakery, and bonding was interrupted by one of the (sober) guests shuffling into the living room of the abode I chose to call home for a few days holding a mass of bloody tissues to her face.
"I need to go to a hospital" said guest intoned, and knowing she had spent a few years as a nurse in the Navy I decided not to argue.
I was on my third drink anyway, so- really- who was I to vocalize a complaint? The buzzkill's two closest friends- being deeper in their cups than I- quailed at the prospect of driving her to the hospital and I realized it was time to man up and thank my liver for the years of training I had given it prior to this evening. 3 drinks in 2 hours is hardly enough to lay me low, or raise my BAL to the point of it being a legal concern, so I threw my GPS in the friend's rental car, punched in the address of the hospital, and hoped for the best.
Not being familiar with the roads of the (foreign) state I was in, I found my way to the hospital with no problem and had the friend checked in and through the triage nurse in short order. After a sigh of relief, I realized I was now faced with the extremely unenviable prospect of losing my buzz in a hospital waiting room.
As the minutes turned to hours, I decided to explore the few rooms that didn't require me to pass a security checkpoint. I'm still not sure what drove me to try the door on the far side of the hallway adjacent to the waiting room. Maybe it was boredom, maybe it was the last hurrah of the whiskey I had enjoyed prior to this unexpected end to the evening, or maybe it was divine providence... but whatever the impetus may have been, I am glad I remembered my Kirkegaard and took a leap of faith. Otherwise, I never would have gazed upon the works of Nathan Greene with my own eyes...
The artist dubbed this masterwork "The Introduction" ostensibly of Adam and Eve to the awesomeness of Jesus' mullet (and a rather saucy looking tiger to boot!) I was familiar with the "airbrush chic" style of Nathan Greene but had never seen any of his works in person, much less framed or on any other medium but a mousepad- but all that would change when I wandered down the hall to the ER itself...
Thinking back on this evening, my readers, I can't recall much of the ride home and I still don't rightly know what caused my friend's face to bleed the way it did. For that matter, I don't even know what town the hospital was in, but I know my friend was released no worse for wear shortly after 3am and that we sure as fuck were not in a medical establishment that had the words "Beth Israel" anywhere in its name.