We came to the city I really cannot stand, Las Vegas, Sin City, The City Where What Happens There Stays There, to fulfill Max's Mom's fantasy of seeing the Wizard of Oz at the Sphere. It's a fucking 110 degrees here AND the goddamned humidity on Tuesday was Omaha-like. So as much as I despise the Midwest and it's 77 dew points well guess what? Yep, the luck continues and the "dry heat" became Omaha plus 20 degrees. So of course, a 25-minute walk to the Sphere was a minor inconvenience. Yeah, until it wasn't. About 75% of the way I began to feel sick. I had to sit. I walked a bit farther and had to sit. I felt like I was gonna either pass out, puke or drop dead. Or all three. We got to the Sphere and sat on the steps. The security staff, who had initially refused to provide us with any water, suddenly decided that was a bad idea. The cold water that Max's Mom poured over my head woke me up fast and I felt rejuvenated. Ready to go. Right? RIGHT? Here come the paramedics and they insist I get checked out. So this old man, me, gets wheeled on a stretcher into the Sphere and into the first aid room. This is where it all got complicated. They did all the vitals and I was ok. Right? RIGHT? Uh no. The fine paramedics, Michael and Perry hooked me up to the EKG or whatever it is and Michael said "Ive got good news and some really bad news. Oh, for chrissakes, what now? You are NOT having a heart attack, cool, BUT you are in atrial fibrillation and we suggest you go to the nearest ER because you could have a blood clot AND have a stroke and die! What? No, I'm here to take the trip up the Yellow Brick Road and no flyin monkeys gonna stop me. The Sphere medical staff, saints named Michael, Perry and Breann, pounded away at the seriousness of A Fib.
A Fib. Where your heart valve looks like a used car dealer with the dancing things and the blood aint flowing right. Ok guys, you convinced me and they called the ambulance. Christ, here we go again. Nebraska Wesleyan football game (2022 pass out and trip in ambulance to hospital). Omar and Denise showed up to transport the old geezer, me, to Sunrise Hospital. Pizza boxes between the seats (good for you guys) the ride was smoother than the Lincoln ambo which felt like an old VW bus on a gravel road. They were great. Off I went to the Emergency Room. On a stretcher. Jesus H Christ I hate being old. The doctors checked my vitals and a security guard (looked like Michael Fanone from J6) was suddenly patting me down for weapons. I told him I left them at the hotel and he laughed and offered me brass knuckles if I needed them. Huh? I soon found out what he meant.
Wheeled thru a Vegas ER is quite the experience. More about that next time.
Little did I know the dead witch under the Sphere was ME.
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