Paramedic Panic

     Sitting in an airport really gets boring quickly. I am tired, FREEZING, and my flight is delayed. Ugh. However, it's not like I'm in any rush to get home for my three back-to-back AP tests, student elections, and submission/agent trackdown.
     So what better thing to do while sitting in Albequerque (is that spelled right) with nothing to do than to blog? Especially when I just had the most eventful flight short of LOST.
    I'm sitting in my seat, and right next to me some lady opens the overhead compartment. Some secretively wrapped package (my first thought was admittedly terrorist, but it turned out to be a photo) fell out of the compartment and hit another old lady on the head. This mortally wounded woman, like any sensible person, began to scream, "MY HEAD IS BLEEDING!!" Why is it that old people and toddlers are capable of screaming louder than many adults/teenagers?
     Flight attendants flock to the lady, who is still whimpering loudly. The man next to her begins to inspect the wound, grab bandages from his bag, and dress it. Not thirty seconds after this, the flight attendants standing right next to the obvious doctor shout, "Is there medical personell aboard?" He just stares at them for a minute until they ask the obvious question. "Are you a doctor, sir?"
     He goes back to actually doing something about the old lady, who turns out merely to have a scratch. That of course, doesn't stop us from landing amidst fire trucks and ambulances with sirens blaring, and having the poor old lady escorted by a team of highly-trained paramedics (they sure knew how to wield that Band-aid) while we watched.
     And now, as I sit in a deserted airport gate typing thsi all too entertaining story and wishing desperately to SLEEP, I can't help but wish for something more exciting to happen. I mean, really? If that poor old lady's escapade was the highlight of my day, my life is boring.
     And that, ladies and gentleman, is why I need to publish a novel.