Humiliation... Revisited

I had an interesting experience this week.  I teach the Cubbie's class at our church's AWANAS program (4-5 year-olds).  It's your typical small town church group: 5-10 kids, almost all from families I've known for years.  This year we had a new family.  Their daughter is in my class and since they live way out in the country, her parents stay through the club meetings instead of just dropping the kids off like most parents do.  Usually her mom stays in our class, but a couple of times this year her dad has attended.  The times he was there, I had the nagging feeling that he looked familiar, but this is a relatively small town, so it's certainly possible that we'd met before.  Then he told me his name.  It sounded familiar... really familiar, but I just couldn't place it.  Finally, he mentioned in passing that he is an EMT... and it all clicked into place.  I mulled it over for a while, and finally got up the nerve to ask him (and face the inevitable humiliation that would follow.)  If I was right, we certainly had met before, and I was pretty sure he would remember ME.  Well about the time I got up the courage to ask him, they stopped coming.  For a month.  Dignity aside, I was really hoping they would come back because I just had to know if I was right.

Well last night they returned.  I swallowed my pride, took the plunge, and asked him, "Did you ever work at L-Bar-C Camp?"

He looked startled.  "Yes... a looong time ago."

And then I reminded him of our last meeting.

"That was YOU?!  HAHAHAHA!"

Ah, yes.  He remembered me alright.

Flash back 15 years.  I was a teenager working at camp- my favorite place to be in the world.  I was working in the kitchen that summer and my older brother was the horse wrangler who (much to my bewilderment) made all the girls' hearts go pitter pat.  Sometime in the middle of the summer, our regular camp EMT was called away on duty with the military and we had a temporary replacement brought in.  I thought he was kinda cute and much to my delight, he approached me while I was cleaning up after lunch one day.  He said that he had to complete a safety checklist of the equipment since he was new, and since much of the equipment is meant to be put on another person, he needed an assistant.  Would I be free for about an hour that afternoon and willing to help him out?  I was surprised (and quite flattered) that he had picked me of all people to help with this task, and eagerly agreed to help.  We arranged a time to meet at the EMT's office.

I chatted up a storm with Mr. Cute EMT that afternoon while he fitted me with blood pressure cuffs, neck braces, and other miscellaneous nonsense.  Finally, he said that he had just one more piece of equipment to try out, if I didn't mind.  It was the backboard.  Happy to assist, I hopped right on.  He was tightening the last straps around my ankles (and I was marveling at how totally stationary the backboard renders the patient) when I made the *witty* comment that if my brother came in right now, I'd think this whole thing was a setup.  That statement must have been my brother's cue, because at that moment, the door burst open and in trotted my brother and three buddies.  (My brain has permanently blocked the identity of his cohorts.)  They picked me up, my mind desperately trying to process this alarming development, and trucked me out to the chapel lobby.  The sight of a screaming girl on a backboard attracted a crowd in no time at all, and they obligingly put on a little show.  Their favorite trick was to stand me up, give me a nudge, and catch me about two inches before I would have hit the ground.  They threw in a little variety of doing this frontwards and backwards, along with some spinning around.  I don't remember all their tricks because I was desperately trying to maintain bladder control on those drops.  Thankfully, when the permanent markers appeared, and Reuben made like he was going to give me a nice mustache and beard, Ray (the camp director) stepped in and made them unstrap me.

I have no more memories of that (formerly) cute EMT.  I certainly never thought I'd run into him 15 years later and get to relive the whole lovely experience.  My most vivid memory of him that day was repeated glimpses of him out of the corner of my eye while I was being tortured by my brother.  He was laughing... and mouthing "I'm sorry" over and over again.  Jerk.