They should sell tickets to this shit!

I recently had the opportunity to spend some time in the waiting room of the triage unit of Grand River Hospital here in Waterloo between the hours of 11:30pm and 5am on a Saturday night.  Luckily I was neither bleeding profusely, nor in severe pain so I was able to just sit back, relax, and enjoy the show.  As a perk, I had talked a close friend into coming along to keep me company, and we both had the forethought to bring along a book, just in case.
Now this was not my first late night visit to a hospital emergency room, so I am familiar with some of the going's on that one can encounter, especially on a weekend, but I have to say that the parties involved really raised the bar and exceeded my expectations.  Like 6 Characters in search of an Author, these people were begging to be the focus of my latest post!
When we first arrived, the notables included a gaggle of university ladies, none of whom appeared to have any reason to be in the emergency room.  They giggled and squealed, texted, and surfed on their smart phones for a good 2 hours before abruptly leaving without any of them ever making it out of the preliminary waiting room.  I have to assume that they were bloody tourists, looking for a nights entertainment on a students budget.
  Also in attendance was 3 very well dressed young gentleman in there early 20's, with a gentleman in his early 40's.  Sporting suits and caps, they were team members of a local junior B hockey club.  One of them had the glassy, vacant stare of a recent, mild concussion.  The concussed was escorted from the waiting room fairly early on, while his teammates and coach looked on. 
Of course there was also a pair of resident tweakers. Seperate Junkies who harassed everyone in the waiting room for cash, lighters, etc before being escorted out by the security staff.  One actually had the tenacity to slip back in and attempt to sneak through the waiting room into the inner sanctum...(real inconspicuous like) only to be escorted out soon afterwords by the police.
One of my favourites was a woman in her late 40's who was escorted in by the police, dressed only in a fluffy teal bath robe, straight out of 1982.  While she appeared to have hurt her hand, her police escort wasn't about to let her out of their sight...what I wouldn't give to find out her story!
But the trio that takes the cake, without a doubt, was the last arrivals of my stay.  Around 2am a pair of 20 something men came in, one a big, burly good-ol'boy, the other, a scrawny, bearded, sweatpants and flannel wearing, full sleeve tattoo and toque adorned Hipster wannabe.  They were closely followed by a very attractive, well dressed, leggy, mid-20's brunette.
My first thought was "what the hell is she doing with them?"  From this point forward my night only got better.  Scrawny rushed to the closest triage nurse, exclaiming "We need help!  She's been shot!"
I will point out now that there was a distinct lack of both visible blood and urgency oozing from the brunette.  The young woman approached the nurse, casually holding out her left hand.  "It's a B.B. ... A lead B.B."  The nurse shook her head in disbelief, and proceeded to start the papaerwork.  Eventually the good-ol'boy left, hat in his hands, leaving the brunette and the Hipster wannabe to wait for her to be seen by a Dr.  The Hipster barely said a word the whole time, holding his head in his scrawny hands, occasionally wringing his toque, and generally looking very guilty and dispondant.  Their story:  They were at a big party at a friends place, with a whole whack of people, and then without any warning whatsoever, she got shot with a B.B. gun.  Apparently, they had no idea who the shooter was, as they didn't ever see the gun...Now I am a pretty trusting person, but even I could drive a Mac Truck through all the holes in that story.  All you had to do was take one look at the Hipster boyfriend to know without a doubt that he had been horsing around with his buddy and somehow managed to shoot his girlfriend!  Classic!  The best part of the night came after the brunette and I had made it into the secondary waiting rooms.  Concerned hospital staff had obviously notified the police, as an enraged brunette stormed from her room, police officer in tow, shouting, "there's my boyfriend, and there's the door!  Get out, I'm fine!"  I have to assume that the Officer was hoping for a statement that would implicate the Hipster wannabe in a domestic assault, but the brunette, rather than being accomodating, was protecting her scruffy little boy toy.  The officer took his leave.
Tim and I exchanged looks!  Chicky's obviously got some baggage!!!
I now understand why reality TV sucks people in!  Combine that drama with the hordes of people who follow ER, or Grey's Anatomy, then mix that combination with a liberal dose of the nonsense that you find in your local hospital waiting room, and you would have a license to print money.
So if your ever bored on a Friday/Saturday night, and your budget is tight, consider cozying up in your local triage and sit back, relax and enjoy the fireworks!