Drama, or Why I Should Stay Home on a Weekday Night and Knit

Even those this posting will have nothing to do with knitting, and even though it's a rather personal story, it's just too funny (in hindsight, anyway) not to tell.

Last night J and I were at a big event opening an historical exhibit, which I had worked on a bit through my job, at the Heinz history center. We got there a little before six, had some munchies and some drinks, and then stood for about an hour while various important people talked (and talked and talked). I was getting a little uncomfortable from standing so long and kept shifting from foot to foot, and there were so many people in the room that it was starting to get rather stuffy. All of the sudden I started to feel inexplicably woozy (and more so than I would expect from the glass and a half of wine I'd had to drink with my hors d'oeures). I turned around to J and said, "I feel really dizzy, I think I'm going to pass out." I heard him ask me if I thought I could walk out of the room, and I tried to say no. Next think I know, I'm flat on my back on the floor, J is frantically calling my name, and there are all these people around me trying to determine if I'm okay (including my boss, who apparently helped J to catch me when I went limp). In about a minute I was sitting up and somewhat back to normal, and a few minutes later the paramedics were there to check me out. My blood pressure was a little low, and J said I'd been out for about 15 seconds, so they were worried enough to suggest I go to the emergency room to get checked out. I didn't particularly want to, but I could see that J was a tad bit freaked out at that point and I thought it was probably the best idea. What I didn't count on was them having to strap me to a stretcher and wheel me out -- passed all my coworkers and several hundred other people, including local elected officials, community leaders, and even the chancellor of the university. Oy. Rather embarrassing.

For the record, let me just say that if you need to go to the ER, going in an ambulance is the way to go. They wheeled me right in and I was in and out of the ER in less than an hour. Everything wound up being normal; apparently I just fainted.

The funniest thing about the night (although again, it wasn't that funny at the time) was hearing J's recounting of what happened when I went down. Want to know why the EMTs came so quickly? Because Bob O'Connor called them. That's right, THE MAYOR just happened to see me pass out and, even when he heard that someone had already called 911, called them himself to make sure they were speedy about it. So thanks, Mr. Mayor! Now, can we talk about getting a stop sign or two on my street so I don't get run over when I go to get the bus every day?