Saturday, August 15, 2009

Recap.


It's been more than a few weeks since I've posted anything. Part of that is just being busy. Part of it is just being lazy, I guess. It's not that I haven't been writing down little notes, I just haven't put them into posts. I think what I need to start doing is to write small posts more frequently. Those long early posts really took it out of me. I guess what I'm trying to say is, "Damn you Jayna! For creating this blog and guilting me into doing it! Damn you!" (By the way, I've enjoyed reading your blog)

My credentials paperwork didn't go through until the second week of August, and I started seeing patients the next day. I had 30-minute appointments the first week back, which I definitely needed while getting used to the new layout of our electronic medical record (which really isn't any better and is just as slow) and figuring out where things are in the clinic. Plus, I didn’t have my regular tech who knows where everything is, so it was slow going. I realized that I hadn’t seen a real patient since the day before residency graduation - almost 2 months prior. But being a doctor's like riding a bike, right? Once you learn how to do it, you never forget? Although I think my problem isn't what I forgot, but what I never knew in the first place.

That very same night I started my first week of call. The arrangement is that everyone takes a week of call starting Friday night and going through the next Thursday. You see anything that comes in over the weekend and after hours during weekdays. There usually isn't a lot to do, but by the end of the week, I was exhausted. Just knowing that the phone could ring makes it difficult to fall asleep, and having fallen asleep, I didn't always sleep well. And I'd have weird dreams. It's been nice not having angry dreams of punching patients in the face or somber dreams of seeing a girl I dated in medical school (I was oddly sad for 2 days), though I never had any dreams of punching old girlfriends in the face, thank goodness.

I did get called in a few times. My first night a kid came in at 2am Saturday morning who was drunk and had punched a wall, cutting his hand. By the way, does it mean I'm becoming an old man when I call all enlisted people younger than 25 years old "kids"? Anyway, his injury wasn't serious (didn't even need any stitches) and he definitely didn't need to come in. So on the way in I'm thinking to myself, "I'll teach this kid a lesson and make him come in first thing in the morning, hungover and all, and he'll wait until I finish seeing any other patients." He was pleasantly inebriated and cooperative and I changed my mind. I guess I'm a softy that way, and I told him he could come in Sunday morning.

Another kid came in the next night with stomach pain and I sent him to one of the nearby hospitals for further workup. To his credit, he tried to tough it out, but after vomiting 12 times and having three bouts of diarrhea, and as the pain worsened, he finally stumbled into our Immediate Care Center (ICC), which is the closest thing we have to an ER. I thought he had appendicitis, which it turns out he did, and they operated on him the next day. One of our lab machines wasn't working and we don't have a CT scanner, so I couldn't use those to get more clues, and sometimes you can be fooled. Like the time I was 21, working construction, had horrible belly pain, and was convinced that I had appendicitis. So I went to the bathroom and explosively relieved myself. Only I didn't feel any better afterwards, so I was definitely convinced I had appendicitis. So I went to the bathroom again and explosively relieved myself. And then I felt fine. And more recently, another kid came into my clinic and I really thought he'd strained a stomach muscle since he says his pain started after working out, he didn't have the usual symptoms of nausea or lack of appetite, and the pain was up towards his left upper abdomen, the complete opposite side as where appendicitis usually hurts. And it turns out he came back a few days later, pain in the same place, but his white blood cell count was really high. Turned out he did have appendicitis. I give up trying to be a physician.

Speaking of a stupid kid trying to play doctor, one of my favorite patient encounters during the past few weeks was with a 19 year old kid who told me that he’d had some fever and chills, cough and runny nose for a few days. I proceeded to ask him some more questions about his cough and runny nose. And then he added that he’d also been having some diarrhea. So I proceeded to ask him some more about his diarrhea. You know, the regular stuff: frequency, blood or mucus, watery or just soft. You know, the usual. When I asked him what he’d tried to do to make himself feel better, he answered that he’d been taking TUMS and milk of magnesia. And I couldn’t help it – I started laughing at the poor kid. “You realize, don’t you, that milk of magnesia is a laxative and gives you diarrhea? I think you’re diarrhea will improve once you stop taking it. And I’m not so sure the TUMS are doing much for you cough.”

I finally gave in and did a rectal exam on the first kid with appendicitis, which in general I think is an over-rated part of the physical exam. There are old school, crotchety surgeons who will tell you that there are only two reasons not to do a rectal exam on a patient: first, the patient doesn't have a rectum, and secondly, you don't have a finger. I can't say that I agree with this. I honestly think that some of this fondness for tickling the prostate is the masochistic martyr complex culture of some physicians. It's like the more you suffer for your work, the better doctor you are. And the rectal exam is a vital part of that self flagellation. It's kind of like how that Opus Dei albino dude in Da' Da Vinci Code wore a spiked chain around his leg, thinking it brought him closer to God. It's crazy.

Another example is how there are still physicians, young and old, who complain about the relatively new 80-hours per week work laws for residents. Like this should even be an issue? “Well, you won’t see everything you need to see,” and “You have to learn how to work even when you’re tired.” B.S. No one benefits from that. You don’t get smarter when you’re tired. I know because I pulled overnighters all the time during med school, probably passed the test the next morning, and couldn’t remember a thing I studied the day after that. Plus, being tired all the time makes you hate patients, like it's their fault that their heart attack brought them in and interrupted the precious few hours of sleep you occasionally get. Yet you still resent them. It's odd how going through our medical education system seems to make people who went into the medical profession for - to a greater or lesser degree - altruistic reasons, come out of it hating everyone.

Honestly, a little part of me was hoping that I'd have another few days/weeks off before I started back. Oh well. The silver lining is that my call week started on Friday night, and on Saturday the medical group commander had everyone come in for "Pride Day," which sounds more like a gay parade than anything military. We had to come in and clean up, shred tons of paper, that kind of stuff. So I guess this was as good a week as any to be on call.

So I feel like I've settled into a routine now, and overall I'd say that things are going pretty well. I usually try to wake up around 0530 and 0600 (depending on what type of shenanigans did or did not occur the night before) and try to work out. Still doing my best to bring it and forget the rest with p90x, which I guess is working for me. I show up for work at 0750, and we see sick call patients from 0800-0900. They're supposed to be patients who are acutely ill, but sometimes they let the "3 months of ankle pain" get through. My regular clinic starts at 0900 and I usually see a patient every 20 minutes until about 1130 or so.

Most days I'll work through lunch, usually doing admin stuff: following up on results, returning emails, stupid military computer training (the terrorists are after our medical information!), and the like. My rationale is that by working through lunch, I don't need to stay until 5pm everyday. My go-to meal is triangle kimbop, which are these little sandwich thingies you can buy here. They're really simple: rice, a little meat (tuna fish or whatever), and wrapped in some seaweed. Afternoon clinic starts again at 1300 and my last appointment is usually at 1530. Most days I can be done with all my notes by 1600, and then I get the hell out of there. On Thursdays I have my colposcopy clinic and that same afternoon I have a half day of administration time.

Colposcopy is a procedure we do for abnormal Pap smears, where you literally look at a woman’s cervix through a telescope-like device. You then apply different solutions to the cervix to make the abnormal cells stand out. If you see abnormalities, you take samples and send them to the lab, and finish things off scraping the inside of the cervix with a metal scaping device and send those cells, too. It’s kind of barabaric, but effective.

Jess had a patient who needed one a few weeks ago, and I don’t think she knew beforehand that Jess wouldn’t be doing the procedure. She was caught a little off-guard when I walked it, and explained to me that no man had ever been able to perform any type of pelvic exam on her without having to ask for help from a woman. “I don’t know, maybe it’s something about being a woman and they’re more familiar with all the parts in there.”

So what I’m thinking is, “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” Occasionally, you’ll have a cervix which points off in a different direction or something, but being a female gives you absolutely no advantage in finding a cervix and taking samples, unless maybe having smaller hands and fingers better enable one to manipulate instruments in small spaces. But what I say out loud is, “Well, I’ve never had problems so far – knock on wood. I don’t expect we’ll have any problems today, but if we do, we can ask Dr. Lotridge to help out.” Everything went fine.

An hour or so later, one of the flight docs comes into my office and tells me that one of his female friends here is friends with the girl who just had the colposcopy. His friend tells him that her friend told her that she just had a colposcopy by a guy doctor and that now she can’t flirt with him because he’s seen all of her girly-down-there business. And later that same night, Jess said she was verbally abused at whine night, uh I mean, wine night (all the female officers get together one night a week and drink wine). “Jess, you have to get credentialed in colposcopy NOW! We need a female doctor doing colpos!"

Most of the day-in/day-out problems I see are musculoskeletal - sprained ankles and knees, back pain, and "it hurts when I pee" type stuff. Most of you know that I used to run a lot and really enjoyed it - for a while I was logging up to 60-70 miles/week; after two ankle surgeries, I've drastically cut back. As I'm seeing all of these people, as I'm getting older (I'll be 34 later this month), and even though I really used to love it, I don't think that frequent running is the right exercise for lots of people. (I've also become anti-heavy weight lifting). Thing is, in the regular world, you would just take a few weeks off from whatever workout program you do, and you'd let your body heal itself. In the military, on the other hand, you have to basically have a doctor's note (called a profile) saying you can't run or do certain activities for a specified amount of time, so everyone with a complaint like that has to be seen.

As expected, I’ve already seen plenty of cases of STDs and screened some others who were informed by previous partners that they tested positive for an STD. At newcomer orientation the public health guy spoke about the problem here in very open terms. Apparently, this base used to lead the Pacific Air Force in STD rates, but we’ve recently been pushed out by Osan. One in 70 people has chlamydia, and 50% of the new cases are transmitted from military to military. The others are most likely contracted from the Juicies, most of whom are Filipinas. I guess there used to be a lot of Russians, but they got deported for one reason or another. The presenter called it “sharing the Kunsan love.”

Funny thing about some of these people coming in with STDs (if you're allowed to describe anything STD-related as funny) is how in-denial some of them can be. Cheech tells a story about a guy who swore that he had no penile discharge, and when Cheech examined him, he said it looked like Bill Murray in Ghostbusters after he got slimed. Another favorite is, when asked whether a guy had unprotected sex, the patient initially said no. But then he qualified his "no" by saying, "Well, maybe for just a second." Apparently the Juicy girl he was with, "just kind of snuck it in there. Just the tip, though." Suuuure. Go ahead and blame everything on the Jews and the Juicies.

The typical set of questions I ask include the following: Are you wrapping up EVERY time? Is your partner wrapping up EVERY time? Any off base activities (i.e. Juicy girls)? Any goop coming from your man-business? I then tell them, "All right, here's my soap-box speech I have to give you: Use a condom every time. Guys here are dirty and so are most of the girls. You don't want herpes or something worse. If you don't YOU WILL GET CHLAMYDIA AND YOU WILL DIE!" Then I put some gloves on and examine guys' wieners and balls. My mother would be proud. I also frequently put my finger in other guys' buttholes. Being a doctor really isn't that great.

It definitely helps that I have two techs and a nurse working for me (it's kind of nice being the boss). I have my techs do a lot of the mundane paperwork (e.g. putting profiles into the computer and filling out paperwork for them to stay home if they're sick - I just sign and go). My nurse is a Korean woman, Miss Jenny, and she takes a lot of the phone calls that come in, manages the cervical dysplasia stuff (abnormal Pap smears), and the STD stuff as well. She's in her early 40s (could pass for late 20s/early 30s) and has two kids. We share an office, and she's really nice. Her English is really very good, although sometimes her pronunciation is a little off. Like the time she told me she had dog for lunch. "Dog?" I asked. "No," she answered. "Dog. D-U-C-K." Ohhh - duck. I'm sure that my Korean will give her more than a few things to laugh about.

I've been going biking as much as I can after work. There's a reservoir surrounded by hills and trails about 8 miles from the base, and as much as I hate to do it, I drive there most of the time. Jess sometimes gets mad that I'm done so early, but I tell her it's because 1) I type faster than she does - top 5 Lance skills - and 2) she cares more and is a better doctor than I am. One day last week, it was almost 1700 and she came by my office to tell me that she was leaving. And she was SOO excited that she was beating me out of the office for once. I didn't have the heart to tell her that I'd spent the last 30 minutes reading Tuesday Morning Quarterback on espn.com.

Lance.


A few thoughts on Pap smears ...


As I've gradually gotten to know some other people here, it seems that one of the first questions out of the females' mouths is whether the other new doctor is female. When I answer yes, or they met Jess, there are near-universal sighs of relief. "Oh good! I'm going to have her do my Pap." And my reaction to myself is, REALLY? You just met me and that's one of the first things you say to me? Not, "Where you from?" or "How do you like Korea?" or some other such small talk? But, "I'm going to have the girl doctor do my girly-down-there exam?" (Which, by the way, was actually what a patient gave as a visit reason to one of the secretaries who booked appointments for me during residency - "girly-down-there-problem").



So let me just clarify a few things. (Yes, I'm going there ... ) Being a mechanic at the cervix service station is really not all that awesome at all. EVER. I know it's never pleasant for you, dear female readers, but don't be so selfish. At best, the pelvic exam is strictly business neutral. It's not like doing a little baby exam where sometimes they're kind of cute and all. At worst, they can be traumatic experiences, sometimes causing PTSD. Like the time I had to perform one on an extremely large woman who was hurried into her appointment one scorching summer day because she was running late. Believe me when I tell you that there is nothing lovely, virtuous, praiseworthy, or of good report about that situation. And I'm not sure that giving her 15 minutes to cool down and air out would've helped, either; rather, she probably would have just had 15 more minutes to ferment. It was like opening a hot oven and having a blast of jungle-air hit you in the face, a pungent concoction of old sweat and Dial soap overwhelming your senses. Yes, more than one of the senses. In addition to the olfactory trauma, I was blinded and experienced some temporary hearing loss. Sometimes it makes you gag a little. Sometime you even throw up a little in your mouth. And sometimes ...




But I can totally understand if a woman would prefer having another woman do her Pap. I get it; when it comes down to it, I'd rather have a male doctor fondling my testicles (all three of them - nothing wrong with having an extra letter in the male bag) ever so gently. (Uh, I mean Grrr! Hunting! Fighting! Drinking beer!) Although I must say that I think that men are sometimes preferable to women in obstetrical care. I've noticed that some women who do obstetrics, especially the older nurses, can be really cruel. I think their experience giving birth to their own children sometimes makes them less sympathetic. I, on the other hand, have never, nor probably ever will, push anything the size of an eight pound bowling ball out of any of my orifices (and if that were to happen, I'd immediately let you know all about it). So if a woman asks for pain medicine - and it's safe to give it - who am I to say no?


But back to my earlier thought, I mean, REALLY? I just got here and that's the first thing you're basically tell me? "STAY AWAY FROM MY GENITALIA!" The two things I resent most about this are that, first, within 5 minutes of meeting me, these women assume that I want to be anywhere near their genitalia ever, like I'm some sort of creepy stalker or something (which I'm not - at least that's what the many voices in my head are telling me); and second, that within 5 minutes of meeting me, these women have already decided they don't want a guy like me anywhere near their genitalia ever. Am I really that repugnant upon first meeting me? I'm not sure whether to be indignant or to lock myself in my mancave and write lame teenage angst poetry about my loneliness and how my father can't understand why I don't love sports like he does.


So, to continue to beat a dead horse, apparently the female doc who was here last year received the call sign SAVOR - Sees All Vagina On ROK (Republic of Korea). Now that Jess is here, she'll be taking over that duty distinction, but I don't think they should just call her SAVOR 2. I propose calling her PEACH - Physician that Examines All Cooches Here. We'll see if that one sticks. If you can think of others, please let me know and I will pass them on so that she can earn her call sign.


BTW, Jess is an Air Force Academy grad and has something like 27 years of payback, so she'll be in for a while. One of my goals to help Jess out this year is to have her either engaged to OR impregnated by a pilot before she leaves here, whichever comes first. I know, I know. But save your praise - that's just the kind of helpful person I am. She told me a few weeks ago that a drunk pilot groped her at the Delta Club, so it looks like we're off to a promising start. While uninvited groping is always despicable, he's not a total monster; he later told me he only groped in self-defense.


Lance.


Sunday, August 9, 2009

8 August 2009



My credentials paperwork has yet to go through for whatever reason, so I have yet to see patients. I'm trying to complain just enough that people think I'm upset about the delay, even though deep down I'm not. Jess's paperwork went through over a earlier in the week and she's not too happy about that - misery loves company, I guess. So I've had some time to do a bit of mountain biking and lots of running of errands. I've pretty much settled into my dorm-apartment, a.k.a. the mancave, and finally figured out a contraption from which to hang my digital projector. The ceilings are made from that foam board stuff you see in offices (probably asbestos or something), which means I had to finagle a wall mount. Only problem is that there's not a hardware store on base so I had to scavenge wood scraps laying around the building here and piece them together. I then bought a white nylon shower curtain for 10 bucks, ironed it out to try and get some of the creases out, and pinned it up on the wall opposite. Overall, I'm quite pleased with the results and myself, considering the material with which I had to work. Most productive 6 hours I've wasted here, if I do say so myself.

(The Author and Griff)
Last weekend I went hiking with Cheech and Chief Master Sergreant Griffin, one of our NCOs (Non-Commissioned Officer - they're upper level enlisted people). Griff has been the Air Force for 17-18 years. You see these men and women and think to yourself, "Wow, this person has been in for a long time - they must be old." But when you do the math, you realize that Griff enlisted when he was 18 and is only around 35, barely one year older than me. Then you get depressed because you're 33 years old and only now are you actually a fully-trained, fully-credentialed and qualified professional. And then you get even more depressed when you think to yourself, "Jesus supposedly died and saved the world when he was 33. What have I done with my life?" And then you feel even more depressed.

Anyway, we woke up at 0245 and drove to a big national park a few hours away to hike up the second highest point in South Korea (tallest on the main peninsula), called Jirisan. It is only about 6300 feet, but the trail was fairly steep. The day was very humid, but the overcast sky worked in our favor as it kept the temperature bearable. We took a wrong turn at the very beginning and lost an hour there; with the detour, we hiked for about 7.5 hrs. Griff started getting muscle cramps in his thigh about half way up and wasn't able to finish the hike. Luckily, going down the mountain didn't aggravate things. He competes in bodybuilding and told us at the beginning, after we asked, that he can leg press up to 1100 pounds on the machine at the gym, so I thought he'd be fine climbing up a mountain. It was probably a freak thing. He's hiked a lot of other peaks around the world. And he has a fantastic enlisted mustache.

(Cheech and I at the summit)
The Koreans we met along the trail were all very nice. Tons of them out. It's sort of a national past-time, along with golf, as I've mentioned. Most of them wear at least long pants, but the women cover even more - long shirts, gloves, and hats with big visors. They do this when they golf as well. I asked my cute little Korean nurse, Ms. Jenny, why they wear all that clothing even though it's really hot and humid. She told me that Koreans don't like being tan or getting freckles, so that's why they cover up. They must think I'm some sort of speckled godzilla or something. Anyway, people along the trail were very nice, offering us food and snacks along the way. They're very into hiking - almost every person had high-tech looking hiking shoes and fancy backpacks filled with all kinds of stuff. They offered Griff various medicines, sprays, and rubs for his leg when they saw he was hurting, some of which I can't be positive wouldn't light up a urine drug screen. Their driving hasn't improved, but they're very friendly and capable hikers.

Sunday night a couple of us went to America Town, better known as A-Town, for dinner. It's an area just over 3 miles from the base where a number of businesses are located that more or less cater to the military people on base. There are restaurants, pirated-DVD stores, bars/clubs with the Juicies, and jersey shops (it's this weird thing here where the different squadrons get custom-made sports jerseys, which are relatively dirt cheap and pretty nice). I recently learned that most of the Juicies are from Thailand and the Philippines. Apparently, there used to be quite a few Russians as well, but they've since been deported. I'm assuming this is why there's a decent Filipino restaurant there, although it hasn't translated into a Thai place, which is a real injustice. I think the food was the best I've had in Korea, which is something of a critique of Korean food. It's not that it's not healthy and even sufficiently tasty, but it just doesn't stand out, and I can't say that kimchi rocks my world. It is most recognizable as red spicy pickled cabbage, but it can really be any pickled vegetable with the kimchee sauce on it. According to Wikipedia, "Kimchi is so ubiquitous that the Korea Aerospace Research Institute (KARI) developed space kimchi to accompany the first Korean astronaut to the Russian-manned space ship Soyuz."

There has been a push for military members to call A-Town the ICV, or International Cultural Ville, which to me seems a little like pouring chocolate on bird poo and calling it a York Peppermint Patty. The ICV is located just over three miles from base because we are not allowed to patronize any establishment within a 3-mile radius of the base (except Mr. So, a local car dealer and mechanic). There is an understanding that if the North Koreans were to attack the South, a three mile radius area surrounding the base would be immediately bulldozed to the ground and the South Korean army would move tens of thousands of troops into the newly leveled area to help defend the base. And by "understanding," I mean, too bad if you're Korean and lived there your entire life. The reasoning behind this is that the Air Force does not want any conflict of interest in such a situation - everything must go.

Lance.



Saturday, August 1, 2009

1 August 2009

Another week gone by. Things are fine. Our credentialing paperwork still hasn't been processed, so we can't start work until that happens. We've been busy running around doing our inprocessing, which is horribly painful. You have all these checklists with thousands of acronyms written on them that you can't understand and you have to go from place to place getting signatures and new ID cards, registering bikes (all four of them), etc., etc. The checklist for our own clinic was even worse. We were trying to track down various people who, when we finally found them, would tell us we needed to go back to the place we just came from and get some new piece of paper before they could sign us off. It was infuriating. What a waste of time. They could have had all the medical-related people we needed to see all come together one morning for an hour and get everything done right then and there. But that probably makes too much sense.

I bought a Kunsan car, which is just any old piece of crap car that you know you're only going to drive for one year and then pass on to someone else. It's a red 1997 Dodge Neon with only 60,000 miles, but also without a radio. At least the AC works. The guy selling it told me he bought it when he first got here, but then arranged a rental car, so it's been sitting around since then. You can have your personal car shipped here if you want, but most people don't. I went to get insurance for it from a place on base and they quoted me $500 for the year. When I called my old insurance company, they said it'd be around $10 a month, "or maybe $10.50." And you don't buy a new car or a nicer used car here, either. They play this game here called "Bumper Cars" which is exactly what it sounds like. There are very few cars without dents.

My Kunsan car

Settling in a little, which of course includes finding a place to mountain bike. Luckily, one of the flight docs here, Simon a.k.a. NoGo, was one of my interns at Travis and has gone biking some. There's a reservoir a few miles from base with some trails around it. Towards the end, the climbs were pretty relentless. But I think it'll be a good place to go. The trails are rather busy with hikers, which I hear is sort of national past-time (as is golf - there are always swarms of Koreans on the base golf course in long pants and long shirts despite the temperature and awful humidity). When you're struggling up a hill, some of them will yell encouragement, one little old lady clapped for me when I topped out on a particularly tough climb, and I occasionally give high fives to people if they're at the top.

Continuing on bikes, Jess and I rode ours into Kunsan this weekend to look around. She bought a new bike before she left the US, so this was her first time breaking it in, although to hear her complain about her backside hurting, sounds more like the bike broke her. "It's not fair! All my fat gets stored in my butt, so this shouldn't hurt." Kunsan is a port city, so you've got all the cranes and industrial zones, but the area is also very agricultural, so anywhere you drive or ride around here you go by huge rice paddies. We just kind of wandered around and stopped wherever/whenever. Went into the fish market, which was pretty cool, and just browsed the downtown area. I wanted to try on some running shoes for when I need some new ones, but the largest size the store carried was a 10.5. And you know what they say about a guy with big feet. Well, here they just call you an American. On the way back, we stopped at a place to eat, which was sort of a hot-pot style restaurant. They brought out all this seafood, and then the waitress went and also added in some fresh octopus. And by fresh, I mean that the thing started to wiggle around in the boiling water until it was cooked. She later told me that her friend waitress thinks I am a soldier. I told her no, I'm a doctor. She then smiles and gives the thumbs up, "Oh! This so better!" She seemed less impressed when I told her that Jess, too, is a doctor.

Riding around in all that traffic confirmed to me more than ever that Asians are the world's worst drivers. I don't think white people are better than Asians, but I do know that white people are better drivers than Asians. I was a little nervous at times and I'm a relatively experienced biking badass. If Jess was scared, she hid it pretty well.

Some of us went and saw the new Harry Potter movie. All I can say is that the sight of Ron Weasley holding his broomstick in his hand with a big grin on his face was probably the funniest part of the whole movie. None of us could stop from laughing at that.


Saturday night we went to the other pilot bar on base, Bruni's. The Delta belongs to the Pantons, and this place is where the Juvats hang out. It was much, much nicer, no smoke machine was necessary, and the floor was entirely intact. There was a new guy joining them and this was sort of the initiation ceremony. Before it started, though, they asked the new people to come up and introduce themselves. The MC then asked me where I'm from, and as soon as I started speaking, everyone in the place yelled, "Shut the f%@* up!" in unison. Wasn't ready for that one. Later, a couple of the guys told me that my reaction was the best they'd seen and they thought I might have crapped my pants. Rule number one of pilot bars is don't talk when they do introductions. Rule number two is there is heavy usage of the f%@*-word.



The rest of the initiation involved testing the new guy, asking him where he's from (Shut the f%@* up! Get the f$@* out of here! Send him the f$@* out!), and asking him Juvat history/trivia. If the new guy messed up, they sent him the f$@* out, then one guy yelled vulgar heckles at the new guy out the window of the bar, usually creative variations on the theme of his mother being a whore. Then we'd all go back to playing dice or beer pong for a couple of songs until the new guy would be invited back in. Most of the guys turned out to be all right. Anyway, it was an experience. And at least this place had a bathroom indoors. At the Delta, guys (and a gal or two) would just walk out the back door and find a tree.

Lance.



A few pictures from the exercise:

Full MOPP gear.



Fake patient.