Christian Schneider attempts to get a little publicity for a blood drive in remembrance of the Virginia Tech shootings one year ago when things go awry and a small explosion in Whitewater gets the media attention instead.
After a few minutes of trying some 'ol crafty bloodletting tricks on me (putting the blood pressure pump thingy on me, getting me to squeeze a ball, leeches) they gave up. After wiping my tears away, the blood drawing technician told me that I should have had more to drink during the day before I came in. I told her that 8:30 AM Chris appreciated her advice.Probably bad karma for the prostitute jokes.
She told me I had two options: A) We could call it a day and try it some other day, or...
"I'll take A," I whimpered.
I walked into the waiting area, and Todd was there, smiling and drinking a water. I told him that there was no luck, since my blood ran cold with the revenge I would seek on him for making me do this. He looked at the scrolling news on the TV, and it said that there was nobody hurt at the explosion in Whitewater. So, ironically enough, if the TV reporter really wanted to see someone injured in an accident, he should have stuck with the Blood Drive story. He could see the carnage that was my left arm - it would have been a ratings blockbuster.
We chatted for a little while, and I considered telling him my dumb joke about prostitutes and filling out the forms. But I figured those kinds of jokes in a blood center were probably treated like jokes about bombs in airports. So I held off. His loss.
I wandered over to the cookies and juice staging area, and wondered what their policy is for unsuccessful blood givers. Sure, my blood was still safely in my circulatory system, but I was pretty thirsty. So I grabbed a Diet Coke and sprinted out of the place.