Moped Maniac!
Friday, February 25th, 2005Donating plasma is always an experience. The people you find yourself with there usually provide good wholesome fun for the whole family. In fact, every so often you get a wholesome family in there, kids screaming while the mom or dad goes and trades their blood for money. I wasn’t lucky enough to witness a family of blood-letters this time, but, and perhaps even better, a totally crazy guy nearly got kicked out. As I was sitting in the lobby waiting my turn to be interrogated and tested for AIDS, one of the nurses was trying to find out if this really short and inarticulate man with some of those orange tinted racing sunglasses on his head had or hadn’t gotten a blood sample taken. She kept asking him if he had gotten the needle put in his arm to have blood taken, and he kept saying, “Uh… yeah. Well, no. Not really I think. This lady pricked my finger. That’s the same thing right? I’m pretty sure it is.” He said that same thing probably four times and every time the nurse told him no and got more and more frustrated. She finally went and found whoever had done the finger pricking and testing and found out for sure what was going on. Even after she left the dude kept babbling about how he didn’t need to have a sample taken and that they’d already taken one.
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