Sometime around noon today we managed to call forward all our phones in unison, bar the doors and sneak outside, only to somehow all appear at the exact same restaurant. It was like we planned it or something.
Lunch was all-you-can-eat sushi, which happens to be one of the most brilliant inventions that I can think of, and being an anthropologist at heart, my attentions turned to the other people in the room. It's always interesting to see the way different people attack these things. There are those who dig in fearlessly, like me, the wimps who only eat california rolls and then the people who can't bring themselves to eat anything other than teriyaki chicken.
Then there's the one person in your party who calls gyoza perogies and then insists upon eating them with a fork. She's from Toronto. Yet another reason why Ontario sucks.
I seized the opportunity to order far too many BC rolls, which were delicious, but I got fish scales stuck between my teeth.
One of my coworkers told me about another job that he used to have at the Vancouver International Airport, called "infiltration". Infiltration being a fancy word for strapping bombs to oneself and trying to get past security. He said that he was surprised to see how often he actually got caught and how professional the people were, especially when he had guns shoved down his pants.
Security officers who fail to detect infiltrations are immediately docked two day's pay and then have to go do all the safety security training again. I feel safer already.
I think that that would make a good co-op job.
And as I sit here, firefighters, paramedics, a boy approximately four years old with a suspected C spine injury. Stretcher, neckbrace, oxygen. Giving oxygen is always the funnest part. I'm going to put this mask on you. It's going to make you feel a little better. I want you to take some deep breaths. Check radial pulse. Load onto stretcher, into truck. Gone. Right under my window.
Fancy that.
Don't worry, he'll be alright.
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