I have to go to my car…because of my stainless steel model 59….
Another time, I was working the floor in our little hospital ER, and a gentleman arrived, and, since it was a Saturday afternoon in July, well, he had a lengthy opportunity to enjoy the hospitality offered by our waiting room. Like, hours and hours.
So, TINS©, when I finally brought this gentleman back, and read the triage note regarding his cough, I handed him one of our gowns, and asked him, “Would you please take off everything above your waist, and put on our gown so it opens in the back?”
“I have to talk to my cousin.”
I was kinda busy. “Right now?”
“Yes, right now.”
I was puzzled. “What could you possibly have left to say to him, after spending, what, three hours in our waiting room?”
He shrugged, and drew back the left side of his shirt. There, situated crossdraw in a belt holster, was a shiny Smith and Wesson Model 59 semi automatic pistol. Nice.
“Is that what you needed to talk to your cousin about?”
Then, I asked what may be the stupidest question of my entire life. (except for the time I asked my wife how she became pregnant. She looked at me and replied, “Really? You were there!”) I asked him, “Sir, do you have a permit for that?”
He said, “Yes.”
Really? What was he going to say, “No, I’m a felon.”, or “No, but I’m gonna carry it around with me anyhow.”? And, what was I going to do with that information? Disarm him? Really?
What I did, was provide the direction I should have started with. “Uh, sir? We really don’t want pistols in our waiting room, just like we don’t really want them in our emergency department.”
He shrugged, again. “Can I go to my car?”
“Certainly! Please come right back!”
He nodded, and I walked with him to our exit door. The security officer at that post asked me what was happening. “See that car, that that gentleman is going to? Please keep a close eye on it, because he’s just now putting a stainless steel 9 mm model 59 away in that car.”