…continued again from the other day, and the other day’s other day…
So while we are all sitting in front of my friend’s garage, watching the big red truck and the small red truck pull up to the house, Bubba looks confused. I don’t have much to say, because things are going to get busy in a few seconds, and I’m trying to stay out of the way.
They unload their equipment and make their way up the driveway, introduce themselves, and begin to work on Bubba.
I’m standing somewhat back, ready to answer any questions they may have, but the situation is very well in hand. I’m not a paramedic right now, I’m just a guy standing with a patient.
I can see Bubba looking at their patches, and we all notice the ambulance’s arrival at the end of the drive.
“Y’all from the fire department?” he asks. It sounds more like “fur duhpurtment,” but we all are fluent in Southern drawl.
“Yessir, we are.”
“Well, what are y’all doing here?”
“Sir, you called nine-one-one. We come to all emergency calls.”
“Well that’s just stupid, ain’t it?”
“Why would you say that, mister Bubba?”
“I called for an ambulance, man, not a fire truck. Why did anyone send a fire truck when there wasn’t a fire?”
Later, I told him that I’ve been asking that same question for somewhere near fifteen years, and when he found the answer, to let me know.