Real Life Drama, and Val's a Good Mama

Hick and I still had the ol' feedbag strapped on when The Pony finished his lunch and headed back to the casino floor. I gave Hick some crispy catfish skins, and he gave me the last three bites of his burger. Of course I pulled off that fake-parsley-looking lettuce. He doused his skins in ketchup, perhaps because there was no more mustard, heh, heh!

Hick was looking all shifty-eyed past my shoulder. He does that a lot. He has a very judgemental expression. 

"What?"

Then I heard it. The server who had brought our low-on-mustard condiments, and who had taken our order at the counter, was walking across the dining area, cleaning tables.

"She's choking," said Server, without panic, but meaning business, to a guy with an ID badge. He was most likely higher-up the casino chain than she. He was in the bar area. He came over to check out the situation.

I turned to see a lady about my age sitting at a table, taking slow, shallow inhalations, and making short, weak coughs. I was immediately relieved, because I could see she was moving air. That's what I said to Hick, who looked ready to spring into action. If you are truly choking, you can't get air in or out, can't make a sound. That's why the universal sign of choking is wild gesturing, pointing at your throat.

I wasn't trying to keep Hick from helping. Only to imply that panic was not necessary, that a Heimlich was not warranted.

A lady companion stood behind Choker, patting her on the shoulder. Not in an effort to dislodge anything, but trying to calm her until help appeared. Badger walked over to the table, asking if she was all right. Choker weakly replied that she was choked. Badger asked if she wanted assistance, and she declined. Badger stayed a few minutes, observing, as Choker quieted a little. Still coughing weakly, taking shallow breaths. Badger asked again if he could help, and she said no. Badger went off into the casino.

Hick said, "He should have called someone over anyway."

"I'm sure they have someone with medical experience here on their payroll."

"Yeah. They'd have to. He could at least have them come check her out."

Hick used to be head of his employer's safety committee. He knows his legal stuff. When we left the dining area, Choker and her buddy were still sitting there. I guess she was recovering slowly. I know that nobody wants to go to a hospital right now. But if she was really afraid for her life, I'm sure she would have let the casino people take a look at her. Maybe they came over after we left, just for a CYR moment. [CYR = Cover Your Rumpus]

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On the drive home, Hick stopped at a truck stop/convenience store because he has a bladder the size of that in a baby mole. I turned to catch The Pony's eyes. Yep. He was unbuckling his seatbelt. We get scratchers there out of a machine. I handed him money, with instructions to get me $3 and $5 tickets. He returned with mine, which I stashed in my gambling purse until we got home. I think I won $15. The Pony lost on the tickets he bought himself, which he scratched while we drove.

"Oh, Mom. I could have got you a bonus $10 ticket! There was one laying in the bottom of the machine, that somebody forgot to pick up. I left it there."

Hick was shocked. "What? You left it there? SOMEBODY is going to pick it up. Nobody's coming back for that. We're on the highway."

"It wasn't mine. So I didn't take it. It didn't belong to me."

"I found one it the Country Mart machine, and chased the old man who was there ahead of me, to give it to him. Another time, I walked off and left $5 in the machine. I figured, 'Oh, well. Whoever found it must need it worse than I do.' Everything happens for a reason."

"It wouldn't have hurt to take this one, Pony."

"No. It wasn't mine."

"You did the right thing, Pony. No matter who gets it."

I hope it wasn't a big winner...