There is blood in the streets in the town of Chicago...*

Hola,

The Lodge has been closed for a couple months while I underwent yet another stressful life experience. This one happened to be the FDNY EMS Academy, and not the toughest school experience I've ever had, they did have a way of making everything tougher than one would expect (not to mention you were out of a job if you failed). I'm now stationed at Battalion 55 in the lovely South Bronx (159 st and Park Ave. to be exact. Stop by if you're in the neighborhood).

I had hoped that once I got out of the academy some of the stress and my accompanying anxiety would dissipate and I would sail smoothly into the world of EMS. Alas, my childlike naivete and sense of good-will-to-all deceived me with it's soothing coos and endearing puppy-dog eyes.

Where to begin? The work itself is great - I enjoy the challenge of walking into an unknown situation and pulling someone out, all the while trying to piece together what is going on with this person. This is harder than it might seem - misinformation, lies, memory lapses, language barriers and well-intentioned relatives are just some of the obstacles that come between you, the patient and a competent "presumptive diagnosis." A 14 year old girl with a stomach ache is 4 months pregnant and doesn't want to tell mom; a baby hasn't had a bowel movement in 2 days but the parents only speak Spanish and your partner assumes that since he is sleeping with a Latina, he can translate what the parents are saying accurately; a guy walks away from a car crash but is acting like a maniac - is it because of a head injury or is he just wasted? These situations are a blast to sift through - weird as that may sound, it's true. Not to mention the adrenaline rush of being en route to a hospital and having a 13 year old head trauma victim (note to parents: roller blades aren't good) stop breathing, her grandmother wailing "she's dead! she's dead!", her 2 year old sister bawling and you alone to get some oxygen in this girls lungs, get grandma to shut the hell up and get sis laughing with silly facial expressions. It's indescribable, you go into a zone and when it all works out (the girl ended up being OK) the feeling afterwards is great.

But all the while you're dealing with these new and stressful experiences, there is unexpected bullshit that pops up in order to remind you that, even though you love what you're doing, it's still a job.

1. The people you work with.
Now, I've met some cool folks in the station, and I've met some real assholes. Which do you think I'm gonna write about? (Allow me to quote Paul Westerberg here, because I think he said it best:
The ones who love us best/
Are the ones we'll lay to rest/
And visit their graves on holidays at best/
The ones who love us least/
Are the ones we'll die to please/
If it's any consolation, I don't begin to understand)

Besides the usual frat boy "hey rookie, you even seen a piece of pussy before?" crap, one of my mentor's is a nut job. Psycho Smurf has, in no particular order, told me I need to go back to the academy because I don't know anything, I'm disrespectful, I have a problem working with women and that she thinks the mentor program is a piece of shit and you should know everything you need to know when you come out of the academy. Need I say more?

2. The Isolation.
Time and experience has taught me that it really is in your best interest to keep the people you work with at arm's distance. For the most part, it seems to me that most people in their respective work environments are out for number 1 and the chances that you are actually going to make any real friendships is pretty slim . Many people navigate this predicament by having a somewhat full social life, but what do you do when you work nights, your days off change each week and when you have free time most of your friends are working? Frankly, it gets really lonely. When I get off of work, sometimes I want to talk to someone who isn't either sick, injured or wearing a uniform and just shoot the shit for a little while and relax. When I get off of work, most people I know are going to bed. Look, I chose this life, that's all on me. I guess I just didn't see this element of it coming.

Alright, my time is running out at the web cafe (next weeks instalment: my deadbeat roommate and why I won't get broadband with him). Catch you next time.

*FUN CONTEST: See the title for this post? Tell me what song this lyric is from (hint: It's the song that was playing on the radio while I got my ass out of bed to appease the alternate-side parking gods) and you win a gold star for the day.

Knowledge of self.

The Reverend recently sent me a link to a clip from The Gong Show and after watching it I began to reflect on my earliest viewings of the show. These occurred when I was a child and would have a day off from school, as both my parents had jobs I would go with my father to work and sit in an empty conference room for most of the day with the portable B&W TV that we had, watching various re-runs on the UHF channels. I remember watching Perry Mason and Superman a lot, as well as the occasional re-run of The Gong Show. At the time, the anti-comedy of the Unknown Comic, Chuck Barris's sarcasm and the undercurrent of 70's hedonism escaped my grasp. While I can appreciate those elements now, the fact that the show was something of a precursor to much of the talk show/reality TV crap of today gives these clips a bittersweet quality. That's acceptable though, because if the mental health industry has taught us anything, it's that everyone is guilty of committing the occasional transgression.

So, please enjoy the clips below. I know I see a lot of myself and my past in them, maybe you will too.

Dreams and hopes for the future.


Moves on the floor.


Fears/Memories of roommates past.

3 days and counting.

Well, Monday I start the FDNY academy and, needless to say, I'm a bit stressed. Ultimately, the whole academy experience will not be as bad as I'm imagining it to be, but I wouldn't be me if I didn't put myself under extreme psychological/emotional/gastrological distress everytime I make a transition in life.


I'm studying my ass off now in preperation, repeating my mantra "don't freak out" incessantly and trying to avoid demon alcohol. But, when I need a break, here are the rays of light that come shining through:

1. The Veal Cutlet Parmigiana Hero from Pizza Boy II (58-19 Woodside Ave.) - Yeah, I know, young cows kept in small pens. If you ask me, I think all children should be kept that way.


2. Captain America - Brubaker is the motherfucking man. Everything about this book is giving me hope - if Marvel can pull itself out of the creative/cultural quagmire that is the killing of Captain America, then surely I can quit smoking. Long live Steve Rogers! (For a more erudite look at Cap', check out my man The Sensation's entry on his blog, The Freedom Suite.)


3. I know I haven't done anymore music posts, and I will when I get more time, but while you're waiting with baited breath, you might go here and download The Paul Gonsalves Quartet album Boom-Jackie-Boom-Chick. You might. I'm not saying you will. But you might. And should.

My Mood: Relieved.

Well, between the debt collectors, ex-girlfriends that literally chase me down the street to let me know how happy they are with their new boyfriends and so-called "friends" who turn their noses up at strip club happy hours, it has not been a mellow scene at the Lodge. Luckily, I got accepted into the FDNY Emergency Medical Services Academy, otherwise the lodge would be shuttered for the season and I would be on a train bound for Alaska, work on a fishing trawler and the arms of an alcoholic Inuit woman.


But, miracles happen and our national nightmare has come to a close. With her usual speed and dilligence, my grandmother sent me a letter commemorating the event. As her letters go, this one didn't contain the usual emotional napalm that is her stock-in-trade. She noted in one line, "Don't ever forget, John, a lot of prayer has been offered for you and God answered. So now bow your head and say 'thank you.'"


To anyone out there praying for me: knock it off. I don't need any unexpected obligations thrust my way.


Question: Anyone out there have any experience with Yoga or Pilates? Do either do shit? Serious replys only.

Out on Bail!

Hello kind readers - I thank you for your patience while I deal with some pressing personal matters, but rest assured, the lodge will be back. Soon.

Have a blessed day.

R.T. Hunter

I saw my ex-girlfriend last night.

Once again, amateur video describes the emotional beating I took better than words ever could.

Willyburg Wisdom.

Overheard at the coffee shop:

"I'm more worried about my Cocaine addled heart then Splenda in my stomach."