Friday Night Chaos

Oh have I got a story for you people. I STILL (like 4 days later) cannot believe this actually happened to me.
So here we go...

The Set-up...

It was Friday night...and I wanted to (hold your breath) GO TO THE BAR. And it just so happens my favorite bar on planet earth is here. The Veranda. It makes me very, very happy. The owner is a personal friend of mine...several friends work there...I could not think of a better place to hang out.
I get all purdy...hop in my car about 8:30 PM and I start off down BlackJack Rd from my house towards the bar.
I only get about 2 miles (half-way there!) and the absolutely retarded happens...
A pedestrian gets hit by a mother fucking car. Right there in front of me. Boom.
And we are just talking...ow. This little Asian man got SMOKED by a Toyota 4 Runner.
Now, being in the Army...let's just say the ol' BAMF has had ALOT of medical training. Trauma is my thing people. SO, I just let the reflexes take over...swerve off the side of the road...jump out INTO fucking traffic..and before I know it...I'm the "first responder". In ANY OTHER PLACE but Mississippi, the story would end right here.
But ooooooooh no. Welcome to honky-town people. Here we go.

I slide onto the ground next to the victim. He's breathing and has a very strong pulse (hooray). But this man has a serious head-laceration and is bleeding all over the place. This is how my pants were destroyed. And he's out cold. Ater all, this guy introduced his face to the hood of the FourRunner and then to the pavement.
I'm concerned about spinal injury, so I DON'T move him. Duh. Now...all the sudden some douche-bag in an UnderArmor hoodie runs up next to me and identifies himself as an Air Force Medic. Hold the fucking press people. Guess what? The United States Air Force does not have "medics". They have some assorted medical jobs...dental technicians, maybe a few other here and there...but they do NOT have Medics. I mean...for what? Its the Air Force. When is the last time someone died from a papercut? And THEN he says "LETS ROLL HIM OVER!".
Now the BAMF bullshit card comes out. In my most "I will kill your fucking family"-voice I say...

"Get the fuck out of here kid. Thats the last thing I want to do right now, you could kill this guy. If you were actually a medic you would fucking know that. The next time you are going to lie and attempt to be a hero, at least get a fucking haircut so I might at least half-way believe you. Now get the fuck out of here."

He looked like I had torn the head off of his puppy dog right there in front of him. Needless to say, he promptly left the scene.

Before I can blink...the driver of the 4Runner is out of the car. This guy is EASILY 6'4" and 250 pounds. A BEAST of a man. And he is crying hysterically. Like a freaking 3 year old child. Whoa tiger.
Thankfully, 2 girls arrive on scene as well. One is dressed in head to toe black and the other in pink. They ask me what I can do to help. Its NIGHT, so chick in the black needs to be OUT of the road. I tell her to talk to the driver and calm him down. By this point he has called 911 and is STILL flipping his shit. Girl in the pink? Literally just STAND next to me. I am crouched in the middle of the road here...you get to play road cone. That way I don't become a victim.

The actual victim decides to wake up. I spin around, identify myself, and tell him NOT to move. All he can say is "Ok John." (Yes, that's my name) He doesn't speak the best English. Great...it gets better.

Now the ambulance drives up. Good news you say? Oh no no no. Enter the "toothless Mississippi Paramedics". Remember, the victim does not speak English.
One paramedic rushes to the victim, the other to me. I explain...and I quote...
"Hey, I'm an Army Medic. This guy is about 50 years old. Sustained a nasty head injury and has multiple lacerations on his face and scalp. I'm concerned about a neck injury. He may also have some other broken bones. I haven't moved him. He was unconscious when I arrived on scene...now he's awake and alert. He doesn't speak much English" (sounds professional right?)

The response...

(wildly honky accent) "Awlrighty then siiir. We gunna take realll nice care o'em."

I then noticed...forget the victim..THIS motherfucker doesn't have any teeth. Oh this is going to be great.

I turn around to see what his partner in crime is doing to the victim. He is SCREAMING at this poor asian man. Look, if someone doesn't speak English...YELLING at them in ENGLISH does not help your cause.

"Awwwlrighty siiir. I'm gunna put this here coller around yer neck. Its gunna keep yur neck bones real nice n' straight"

(Wow)
The victim looks at me in sheer panic. I just smile and give him a thumbs up. He says "Ok John"

The paramedic, oblivious to anything, says "No siiirreee, My names Earl..I'ma git you to a hospital"

"We're gunna strap ya to this here backboard. Its called a backboard. Its gonna keep yer back bones all nice too."

(Holy fucking shit. I am actually LAUGHING at this point)

I look down...I am COVERED in this old man's blood. Yay. So the Police arrive...take my statement, take my information, etc. And at least THEY were halfway competent.

I go home...tear off my pants. (Hey, it NEVER happens any other way) and change...and then go to the Veranda and proceed to get te-rarded. (thats WORSE than retarded)



Oh Friday nights in Mississippi...how I will miss you.


Out here,

the BAMF