The Tale of Two Stories
My father was assigned to help train new paramedics from England one summer in Gettysburg, PA. They spent most of their time there together, learning about how each country’s EMS operation functioned, sharing different techniques, etc.
After an especially long day of training, dad and the English visitors rewarded themselves with a trip to the local bar.
They returned home later that evening, dad to his barracks, his friends theirs’. Dad later awoke to pounding on his door and someone yelling “Tony fell out the second story!” Dad quickly dressed and followed the young man to his barracks. Upon arrival, dad looked around the building. Not finding a body he turned to the frantic Brit, “Did you move him? Where is he?”
The Brit nodded his head, pointing to the window above, “He’s up there.”
Quickly, dad ran the stairs to the second floor, opened the door and found the victim tangled in his bed sheets on the floor.
“I thought you said he fell out the second story?” The answer proved there was still cultural differences betwixt the two paramedics. “‘e did, ‘e fell out the bleeding bunk,” pointing to the top bunk he finished, “Right off the second story.”
