The flight - a return from Chicago. The trip - a weekend spent wearing hospital scrubs and working elbow-deep in the belly of a cadaver. The entry - a reflection on the wierdness that is my life.

The course was put on by the American Academy of Orthopedic Surgeons, and there were twenty-odd tables, or "stations", with either a torso or a head at each. There were about twenty faculty surgeons (most of whom I know, having worked with them before) teaching about 60 surgeons scattered about at the various stations.

Where I fit in is supplying the orthopedic implants they are learning to implant. There are about six companies who provide the equipment, and there are about four of the stations assigned to each company. We'll don our surgical attire, put on a "bib" that designates the company we work for, then act as scrub nurse.... handing off the surgical instruments as needed, trying to stay one step ahead of the faculty surgeon as he teaches the procedure. Heaven forbid he actually have to wait a second for anything he needs. Yes, it's the rookie product manager who waits to locate and hand off an instrument until it's actually asked for.

Then, when the surgeons get tired of finding new and interesting ways to access the spine ("Wow, it sure is easy putting this here without a head to get in your way!"), all of us unappreciated vendors will dive in and remove any implants that the surgeons put in.

When there isn't a lab going on and the surgeons are all in the lecture room, that's when the mingling begins.

"Paige! How are things going at S.S?"

"Great! What about you? Things at S.D. going ok?"

"Oh, yeah... it sure has changed since you left Memphis though."

"That's what I hear! Hey, let's grab a beer later and catch up."

"Absolutely! See ya after the meeting.... I've got to get in here and clean some goo off my instruments."

So, Friday night Jan (a coworker) and I met up with two guys from my previous company. We were at the hotel bar, and as it approached 1am, I knew that Jan wouldn't be able to hang for too much longer. I, however, was still going strong. We learned that there was a "sports bar" within walking distance of our hotel in Rosemont that was open until 4am. Predictably, Jan called it a night, and the remainder of us headed over there.

Shockingly enough, karaoke is still all the rage in the surrounding Chicago area. We walked in to see two rather skanky girls singing their little hearts off to "Total Eclipse of the Heart", followed by a rather entertaining rendition of "Judy Blue Eyes" by a 5 foot tall Mexican guy.

The one person who could sing, however, was a guy who could easily be mistaken for Michael Rosenbaum from Smallville. He looked about 35, was completely bald, and had a nice face. As I sat at the end of the bar watching him sing "Sweet Caroline", his girlfriend started to make conversation.

(pointing to one of the dudes I was with) "You need to watch out for that guy.... he's after you."

"Him?? Oh no... he was just telling me that I've grown a butt since he last saw me, and felt the need to grab my ass to prove his theory."

"Oh. Well, I still think you should watch out for him."

"Well, thanks. I'll be careful."

She was a really sweet girl named Wendy. She was in the process of asking where I was from when her boyfriend finished his song.

"I live in Northern New Jersey."

"Really?? My boyfriend has family there. Paige, this is Scott."

I shook his hand, and complimented him on his song choice. "You just gotta love Neil Diamond!"

He agreed, and we made a little more small talk before he got up to sing another little ditty. I turned around to talk to the guys I was with, and about 20 minutes later I saw Scott and Wendy gathering their things to leave.

"See you guys! Nice to meet you!"

Me and my friends were not quite as smart, and stayed for about two more hours, finally leaving when the bar closed down at 4am. Technically I didn't have to show up anywhere until about noon on Saturday, so I figured sleeping in wouldn't get me into too much trouble.

Around 10am the phone rang.

"Paige?"

"Yes?"

"It's Scott."

"Scott?"

"From last night. I met you at the bar."

"Oh.... Um, hi."

"What are you doing?"

"Well, I'm getting ready to go to work."

"Well, that sucks."

"Well, not really. Um.... how did you get my number??"

"I knew you were staying at this hotel, and you told me your last name."

"I did? Okaaay.... Why are you calling me?"

"Well, you struck my fancy - if you will."

(giggle) "Struck your fancy??"

"I just wanted to talk to you again. Is there anything wrong with that?"

"Well, no... I guess not...."

An awkward silence ensued. He told me he was "just driving around, running errands".

"How long before you have to go to work?"

"A couple of hours. Actually, I really need to go. Thanks for calling, though."

"Maybe I'll see you again."

"Yeah, ok. Bye."

So, yeah.... I had NO IDEA what that was all about. The conversation I had with the dude, If you could even CALL it that, lasted all of five minutes, in the presence of his girlfriend. I was still lying in bed, thinking I really should be hitting the shower soon, when the phone rang again.

"Hi, it's Scott."

"Hi."

"I'm in your hotel."

chirp

chirp

At this point, it moved beyond strange into downright creepy. I imagined a future episode of Forensic Files.

Locals recalled seeing the victim singing along to some bad karaoke, and talking to a young bald man. Little did she know that was the last Amstel Light she would ever have.

"You're downstairs??"

"Yeah, I want to see you."

I really didn't know how to respond. If he was unstable, the last thing I wanted to do was piss him off.

"Well, I can't come down. I'm not dressed."

"Even better."

*shudder*

"Um, wasn't Wendy your girlfriend?"

"According to her she is. Well let me come up then."

"I'm sorry, but I'm not telling you my room number, unless somehow you managed to get THAT information from me last night as well."

"No, I'm not like that."

"Well I don't know you. I'm sorry."

Another few seconds of silence went by, and then he says, "I don't know what to do here. I could leave, and let you take a shower.... alone...."

That was the last straw.

"Yeah, I guess you really should. Because you can't come up."

"Well, I just thought I'd try. No harm in that, right?"

No harm indeed. Let me tell ya, I was SERIOUSLY creeped out at this point. I mean, does that crap actually work for him? For anyone?? And just WHAT exactly about me said "I'm-a-two-dollar-whore-come-get-me-big-fella"??

Christ.

I was never so happy to see a dead body as I was when I got to the lab an hour later.

Luckily the rest of the weekend passed without incident, and I didn't see or hear from him again (not that I didn't spend the entire time looking over my shoulder).

So fellas, before you try this one at home, think twice before you just show up at a girl's hotel and invite yourself up. You'd better have a better line than "You struck my fancy", because that one just didn't do it for me.

feeling... like a Psycho Magnet
watching... south park
miss something?
goodbye my friend - 2005-04-29
out of the loop - 2005-04-09
a quest for clarity - part 1 - 2004-08-30
no plan for a sequel - 2004-08-27
slacker of the month - 2004-08-26