Gotta love the ER

When a security guard at the local emergency room, with an unhappy look on his face and rubber gloves on his hands, stuffs Cousin It into the back of the cab, you know it's a bad one. The guy I had the other night looked foul, smelled foul, and he was all hair. It was long, greasy, gray hair, with matching mustache and beard, and only his beady eyes and a small nose were peaking through. He had to move his head around to look at me through all the hair. I couldn't help but smile at his appearance, and then when the smell hit me, the smile disappeared.

When he was situated in the back seat, the security guard handed me a voucher which stated SVDP as the destination. No idea what that is, and the guard didn't know, either. Cousin It said "Trolley Court." I had never heard of that, so I asked if it was the 12th and Imperial trolley station. He mumbled in the affirmative.

My radio call:

Me: 92

Dispatch: 92

Me: I've got a live one to 12th and Imperial.

Dispatch, chuckling: 10-4

Another driver: I've got some spray if you need it.

Me: That's okay. I'm going to roll through a car wash with the windows down.

I said that with Cousin It in the car, but he was barely aware of the world, so it really didn't matter. I couldn't picture him working a telephone to make a complaint.

When I was getting close to his destination, on the only road that leads in there (National to Imperial, then left), I saw that roads were closed and traffic was logjammed. A Padres game had just let out of Petco Park, which is one block from the trolley station, and traffic from the game was fierce. A traffic cop rudely told me I had to turn right, going east on Imperial, directly away from Cousin It's destination. I went one block and then pulled over and helped him out of the car.

The guy got angry and said it wasn't where he wanted to be, and I tried to explain what happened, even though he saw and heard for himself. Not wanting to repeat myself, I got him out of the car and left.