Bad Blood

I've learned something important during this school vacation week.

I really have to be careful what I wish for.

I'm constantly bellyaching about how, as a teacher, I have very little flexibility in my schedule. Now, before you start it about how much time off I get, please hear me out. I DO get lots of time off. I realize that most working people would happily sell their first born's soul to the devil for my work calendar. However, what I'm talking about is flexibility, not time off. Most of my friends can say, "I don't feel great. I'll go in a little later today," or, "I have to make a doctor's appointment. I'll take a longer lunch and then make up the time at the end of the day." You know, that kind of thing. I can't do that kind of stuff. If I have a 15 minute appointment, I have to take an entire day off, leave substitute lesson plans, and then worry about my students mauling the poor sub to death.

The American Red Cross called me late last week and asked me to donate blood this week. I was all delighted to set up a late morning appointment. Normally, during work weeks, I have to make late afternoon appointments. When I get there, they're running behind and taking walk-ins and crap. I also can't go to the gym because you can't work out after you've donated. (Nice excuse...I'm also not supposed to drink booze after, but when they tell me to "double up on my fluid intake" I just get the big jug of wine instead of the single bottle on the way home.)

Anyway, I set up an appointment for 11:30 yesterday, figuring I could take two cool Friday AM gym classes and THEN donate.

What I failed to take into consideration is that at that time of day, all the other donors would likely be crazy, effed up, and unemployed.

There was a guy giving his health history to the nurse in the station next to mine. You know how they always ask you those crazy sexual health history questions? Like, have you had sex with a Samoan guy with Barry White playing in the background? If yes, which Barry White track was it? Was the Samoan man wearing his native dress prior to the sex acts?

You know..that kind of crap.

Anyway, the donor in the station next to mine was asking the nurse questions that would make John Holmes blush. He was asking, "If I've had sex with a person whose gender I'm unsure of, and whose sexual history I did not obtain prior to having that encounter, should I be giving blood?"

Guys....I am NOT kidding. That was his question VERBATIM!

The nurse said she was going to get her supervisor involved in his history screening because she was unsure of how to answer his questions. As she made her way away, seemingly to get her supervisor, he started calling after her, "I mean, I'm sure you've been through the same thing, right? You've probably had partners whose gender you're unsure of. That's pretty common, right?"

She tried to gracefully exit the thing, but he continued to call after her, "I mean, what would you do under the circumstances? Would you be surprised?"

OK, here's the gross part, as he was asking her these questions, he was getting increasingly frenzied and kind of (it grosses me out to say it) excited. He was getting loud and his stutter was getting more and more pronounced.

Clearly he was trying to get his freakin' rockets off by asking this poor young woman these questions.

Jesus, all I could think of was that Buffalo Bill guy in Silence of the Lambs. (It puts the lotion in the basket. SKIN SUIT!!)

Finally, I was taken out of there and brought to the donation room. Thank God.

Several moments later, though, Buffalo Bill appeared. I kept thinking, "I hope they are flagging this maniac's blood for immediate disposal after the donation."

For some reason, the nurse on duty was telling all of us how long we'd taken to donate a complete pint of blood. I am always told that I go pretty fast, and the nurse was commenting on it throughout the collection. Buffalo Bill kept asking the nurse, "How fast? How fast is she going? Is she ahead of me?" He kept turning it into this sick competition. I didn't realize there was a speed medal for blood donation.

Anyway, in the end, it took me 7.5 minutes. Buffalo Bill came in a full minute behind me. Yes!

I was taken over to the snack table. There was some really sweet old lady over there. She had just finished donating and was having her snack. (And, in typical New England Nana fashion, she was emptying half the contents of the snack and beverage table into her purse. She wasn't even trying to hide the fact, either. Awesome. That's so gonna be me when I retire!)

The Tiger Woods conference was on, but the volume was off. The woman and I were speculating on what Tiger was saying. Suddenly, Buffalo Bill surfaces at the snack table. He looks at my Concord grape juice and says, in this attempted sultry tone, "I'll have what you're having." I just ignored him. There were 40 cans of the shit right in front of him. What was he expecting me to pour it and put a little umbrella in it for his ass. Yeah..I don't think so. (It puts the lotion in the basket!)

Whatever. The woman sitting next to me called Tiger Woods a disgrace. Buffalo Bill immediately jumps to Tiger's defense. "A man's got needs!" The elderly woman jabs back. "What he needs is a kick in the pants!"

Ha ha.

The woman turns to me and tells me that her husband cheated on her years ago and she dumped his ass. (She was still stuffing snacks in her suitcase sized purse at this point).

Buffalo Bill looks at her and says, "Maybe you weren't satisfying him in the bedroom."

For REALZ.

The woman and I try to ignore BB, but he keeps it up.

I sort of gently told him that maybe we could change the subject, that clearly the woman was uncomfortable.

Finally, though, upon his insistence of dissecting this woman's sex life, I had to go all Clarice Starling on his ass and tell him that I thought the line of discussion was inappropriate and offensive to two women he didn't even know. I suggested that we steer the discussion back to more neutral topics, or that we stop talking altogether.

The woman smugly stared Buffalo Bill down because I had come to her defense.

She and I both got up and left Buffalo Bill there, stewing in his grape juice.

I even wheeled her snack-filled luggage to the elevator and eventually to her car for her.

I could tell I had earned her forever friendship when, before closing her trunk, she opened her suitcase, reached in, and took out a pack of Lorna Dunes for me.