He comes over to me and leans in close to my ear. “Some girl is passed out in the bathroom.”
Oh. Well that’s not what I was expecting. I follow him to the bathroom. And there it is – a dose of Hunkmania reality. A woman, mid-twenties is lying face down on the bathroom floor completely still. My first thought is, holy shit. I wonder if this girl is dead. She’s not moving, at ALL. I wonder if this is going to be my first experience with a dead person. What if I have to give her mouth-to-mouth?
Then I snap to attention and go into crisis mode.
I turn to K.C., “Go get Bubbs and Danny. Take my phone and call 911. Where are her friends?” K.C. steps aside and the passed out girl’s friend steps up and into the bathroom.
“Do you know how much she had to drink?” I say to her friend who looks as if she’s debating whether to get down on the floor with this girl and help or run as fast as she can out of the bathroom.
“I don’t know. We had some tequila at dinner and then we drank champagne in the limo. I think she had a couple of cosmos during the show.”
Jesus. Danny and Bubbs show up in the doorway.
“Ah, fer fuck’s sake. She breathing down there, right Liz?” Danny looks more annoyed than worried.
I put my hand on her back, which is sweaty and sticky. “Yeah. Did K.C. call 911?”
K.C. squeezes through the door with my cell phone in hand. “Yeah. Somebody needs to wait outside for them, though.”
Danny turns to leave announcing that he’ll wait for the paramedics and Bubbs peeks his head into the room. “Yo, Liz. Isn’t that the girl who was yelling at you earlier outside? “
My head is spinning and it’s not from the couple of drinks I’ve had. I can barely remember these girls when there’s no crisis and now he wants to know if I recognize her?
He continues, “Yeah. She’s the one whose friend didn’t have id.”
Fuck. He’s right. This is the girl that was calling me all sorts of nasty things not more than a couple of hours ago. How ironic. Now, I’m taking care of her. I love my job.
By this time, people are starting to notice there’s something going on in the bathroom and a crowd is beginning to form in the very narrow hallway right outside of the bathroom.
Annoyed, I tell Bubbs to get them out of there. As I’m barking orders, the girl begins to stir. Maybe stir is the wrong word. Flail? It’s like she just got jolted out of a deep sleep because she suddenly rolls over and starts moving her head back and forth along with her arms as if she’s fighting something.
“What’s her name?” I ask her friend.
Backing up closer to the door, her friend replies, “Rosemary.”
K.C. and I try to control Rosemary’s movement while I’m trying to be all calm in my voice, “Whoa. Whoa. Rosemary. Easy girl. Easy. Just relax. Let’s sit you up, okay? No. No. Don’t try and stand up. Let’s try sitting. K.C. get her under her arms and I’ll straighten out her legs.”
Someone reaches into the bathroom with a bottle of water and there I am squatting down next to Rosemary with K.C. who’s in his red g-string, trying to coax her to drink some water.
It’s a sight to see. Her blond, highlighted hair is matted against her face. Her eyes are barely open. I think she’s got vomit on her chin and left shoulder. She picks her hand up to wave away the water and I notice 3 of her perfectly manicured fingernails are broken. Payback’s a bitch.
“Rosemary. Listen to me. You HAVE to drink some water. Just take little sips. Here. I’ll put the bottle to your lips – just sip sloooow-ly. Good.” I feed her water slowly with one hand while my other hand is holding the back of her sweaty neck. “K.C.. Let’s get a wet towel on the back of her neck.” Yeah, ‘cuz now I’m an EMT girl.
I look back at her friend and tell her to get Rosemary’s things and let the other girls know what’s happening. “Someone has to go to the hospital with her.”
Her friend looks mortified. “I can’t go. It’s my bachelorette party.”
K.C. and I just look at each other, the silence speaking volumes.
I try to contain myself because right now I just want to go off on this girl. What is wrong with people? Again with my tight smile, “Yeah. Well, it looks like your party’s over hon. Just figure out who’s going with her, okay?”
She turns to leave the bathroom and Rosemary seems to have a moment of consciousness. In a half whisper and half slur she picks her head up and says, “Terry. TER! Make sure you get my shit okay? I need my shit.” And with that pearl of a direction, her head drops, chin to chest and she’s back in her semi-conscious state.
Jimmy pokes his head inside the bathroom. “Everything okay here?” He looks at the girl. “Oh shit. That’s the girl who we were thinking about kicking out. She’s wasted, man.”
Finally, after what seems like an hour (15 minutes really), the EMS guys show up. Two guys barge their way into the small, smelly bathroom.
“Okay. Everyone. We’ve got it from here. Let’s get everyone OUTside of the bathroom. Sir. (to K.C.), you can get up now.”
I swear he checked K.C. out as he stood up to his full height. I’d give anything to know what these EMS guys are thinking.
To me, “Ma’m. You can go too.”
“No. I think I’ll stay here.” I squat over to one side of Rosemary surprising myself that I’d want to stay and take care of this chick. But hell, it’s my job, or is it? Right on cue, Rosemary leans her head over and rests it on my shoulder. Oh my GOD. She exhales deeply.
“You’re sho nishe to me. Shank you. Shank you. I’m shorry I cawled you a bitsh.”
And there it is. The irony of my world. The very person that I wanted to smack just two hours prior is leaning her head on my shoulder professing her undying gratitude for my care and concern. Another priceless moment at Hunkmania.
The EMS guys waste no time, though I don’t know why I would expect them to. The shorter guy of the two bends down, makes a fist and starts rubbing Rosemary’s chest area right over her heart. I’m a little taken aback because he’s rubbing really hard – so hard that she falls over, head into my lap.
He’s unfazed. “What’s her name?”
“Rosemary”, I say. Suddenly I feel like her only friend.
“Rosemary. Rosemary. Can you hear me? Come ‘on. We have to stand up. Get up. Can you stand up?”
This, to me, is useless as Rosemary’s head is in my lap and she’s mumbling or moaning and clearly not getting up anytime soon. The EMS guy maneuvers himself so that he’s able to pick her up from under her arms. He stands her up. I follow suit.
“Rosemary. Can you stand up on your own? Can you do that? How much did you drink tonight? What did you have to drink?”
Trying to be helpful I respond, “Her friend says they had some tequila, champagne and cosmos.”
He looks back at his partner and they exchange a look that screams, “Another Saturday night loser.”
While the first guy is holding Rosemary steady, the other one wants to know who will be accompanying her to the hospital. Both guys look at me. This is where I draw the line. I hold my hands up.
“Uh. No, no. I work here. I think her friend is coming back.”
Somehow Rosemary shifts and knocks her head into the soap dispenser. The EMS guy steadies her just in time to save her from banging her head on the porcelain sink. My heart is in my throat as I really thought this girl was going to crack her head open.
Standing her up, the EMS guys start to walk her out of the bathroom. As she’s “walking” out, I notice that she’s got a glob of soap on her forehead.
“Wait!” I say to the EMS guys. Grabbing a paper towel, I wipe the soap off her face.
The EMS guys look at me like I’m crazy.
“Come on guys. The girl’s got to have some dignity. I can’t let her walk out of here with that on her face.”
The shorter guy looks at me deadpan and says, “Yeah. ‘Cuz this is real dignified.”
And off they went.
I walk out of the bathroom area. I’m exhausted. K.C. walks over to me.
“That was intense.” He hands me back my phone.
Taking the phone, I exhale. “I know. This place is crazy.”
“So, what are you doing later?”
At the same time, Bubbs appears. “Liz. You ready to start checking in people for
the next show? They’re already lined up outside.”
“Yeah. Give me a second.”
I walk back out into the main area. The theme from the show “Cops” starts as the show is still going on in full force. “Bad Boys Bad Boys, Whatcha gonna do….” This is Lance’s music. His cop thing. He’s the last dancer of the evening which means I’ve got to get my ass in gear if I’m going to get the next set of women checked in. Looking out at the crowd of women who are drunk, still screaming and waving their hunk bucks in the air, you’d never know that there was any drama in the bathroom just a few moments ago. Amazing. Bubbs taps me on the shoulder from behind.
“You ready?” He smiles.
“You ready?” I shoot back. And off we go back to the front of the club to do it all over again.
“Give it up for OFFICER LANCE!”