Crisis Management

I got to the sluglot very early this morning because I couldn't sleep and decided to just get my day started.  I drove into the lot, and there was already a car waiting.  It was an enormous Chevy truck that required me to use the foot rail to climb in, and of course, my foot slipped off of it, and I faceplanted into the seat.

As we merge into the HOV lanes, the driver exclaims "I'm not feeling good.  I'm going to have to pull over."  A million things are going through my mind at this point.  Was this just a ploy to murder me and the backseat guy on the side of 95?  Was this guy about to puke on me?  Because I'd rather be murdered than have a guy puke on me.  He pulls over, turns on his hazzards, and he gets out.  He's pacing up and down the side of 95, and I'm just sitting there with the other dude in silence.  If you aren't aware, once you're on the HOV lanes, there's no exit for miles and miles.  It's not like we can just turn around and head back to the lot.  We are stuck with this dude.  He comes back to the door and asks me if I feel comfortable driving.

Did I mention that he's driving a tank?

So I switch to the driver's seat, adjust the seat so I can kinda sorta see out of the mirrors and touch the pedals with my tippy toes, and off we go.  I asked the guy repeatedly if he was ok and if he needs to go to a hospital.  He says he thinks he might need to go to the ER.  Luckily, I'm an ER connoisseur, and I am flipping through my mental files of where all the closest hospitals are that I can actually get to.  I turn his radio off, and I'm listening to his breathing and watching his body language.  At this point, I'm also flipping through my mental cache to see if I remember CPR.  I then start looking at him in my peripheral vision to size up whether or not I can stomach giving this guy mouth to mouth.    

Meanwhile, I'm driving this Bradley Fighting Vehicle down 95, and I can barely see over the dash.  I'm cruising with the flow of traffic, and I'm keeping an eye on my patient.  I keep mentally repeating "don't die don't die don't die."

Then, backseat guy pipes up and tells me to slow down.  I'm going 73 MPH, and everyone else is whizzing by me.  Then he tells me I should get over in the right lane.  Then he tells me to pass someone. 

Patient zero is now experiencing seriously labored breathing.

Backseat guy just went too far, and I had to get this under control.

I said "sir, if you aren't part of the solution, you are part of the problem.  I am going to get you both safely to the parking lot, but I'm going to need you to sit back, close your eyes, and shut your damn mouth.  Otherwise, there are going to be 2 people in this car that will go to the ER."

That was the last I heard from him.

I finally get to the parking lot, and I ask Patient Zero if I need to go get a police officer to call an ambulance.  He tells me he's just going to pull into a space and sit for a while to see how he feels.  I told him where the closest hospital is just in case he wanted to drive himself over there, and he thanked me for driving.  Then he said "that guy was a real asshole.  Thanks for shutting him up."

That's what I do.  I manage crises.