Wednesday, March 01, 2006
What a day!
Woke up at 6 AM.... haven't woken up at 6 AM in forever....then DROVE out to the city... that must be some kind of suicide mission.... 3/4 of the city's excuse for a population drives to the city at exactly the same time.
Anyway... got there... and my supervisor was waiting for me....
First order of business in the day... strip. No cubicles, no screens, not even a towel. This must be how they do it in prison. Strip, down to your very undies, surrounded by a bunch of other men and put on gruesome blue cover-alls. Wish they'd told me this before. Would have worn my least tattered pair. In between, spray some strange disinfectant powder all over yourself. For some reason, undoing buttons and laces on the coveralls becomes a hell of a lot more challenging when you are standing in your underwear, and covered in white powder. Anyway. That was... interesting.
So then we go into Operation Theatre. And there is this guy lying on the table, with another smug chap jamming a pipe down his throat. Whistling. Never stops whistling. Then I watch as someone takes a mini toilet brush (very mini) and scrapes tissue from the inside of his lungs. I dissolve it in saline. Then we go out and have, what was possibly, the worst cup of coffee I have ever tasted. When we come back, there is a new guy with a pipe down his throat. More scrapings. Then they shove a mini pair of forceps and pull out nice lumps of lung tissue. I dissolve it.
Then we go out and perform the whole strip tease ritual reverse and with a few bonus kinks. This time we strip to the undies, my supervisor and I, and walk through this place where we are hit by a pwerful stream of air, and some volatile liquid. There's something very peculiar abt that. Two of us, my boss and I, standing next to each other almost nude, getting hosed, talking about research. I don't think I spoke much though. Not until I had fumbled with my jeans some more and finally put them on.
Anyway. Then head off to Princess Margaret Hospital, with the fresh samples. Except. I can't find my car. I could have sworn I came up one level from the ground and parked it in the complex. Except when I take the life to level 1 it's not there. Walk the entire massive expanse twice, in my ugly tight boots which I had worn to impress people on my first day (fat load of good that did... walked around in weird green paper slippers). Then try level 2 and walk around there as well. Finally a tree looks familiar, so I go near there and press my remote lock button. That sets off the alarm (thought that function was invented just to annoy me... apparently not). And I realise that it's somewhere below me. So I run down the stairs. Apparently, the first level is called "McIver Street Rail Station Level"... that's where I parked. The level above is level 1. If anyone can explain the logice behind this, there is a cash prize.
The samples were fast degrading. So I drive over. Not a single parking spot in the entire region of PMH. Drive around the same streets half a dozen times. Driving up and down, one way streets, taking a 2km detour to get to a spot 150 m behind me. Finally park on the 12th level of another complex (carefully note the level number)... strange... why wasn't this one full? Guess. Lift doesn't work.
Fianlly get the samples in. The cell viablity has fallen rapidly. They ask me why I had arrived there at 11:15 even though the last sample was taken at 10:00 AM. Mumbled something. They are probably going to ask my boss. Must have a reason ready.
Finally finished there. Had another 30 min on the parking meter. So had lunch at this gourmet Irish cafe. Where the cashier had a strange way of remembering orders... no numbers or notes. She just remembered faces. And instructed the waitresses (see pic). Uncanny. "Chicken wrap... Big Guy in Hat outside. Latte and Tuna Salad. Bald guy in suit and middle aged ladywith the nice bag.... corner sofa." Had a weird roll with mango chicken and kiwi fruit in it. And an Irish cream coffee of which I spilt a substantial amount on my trousers.
Went to uni from there for evening management class. Bought a boutique bottle of Ginger Beer from a speciality store on the way. Little personal treat. Enjoy it in class and rub it in everybody else's face. The professor asked me to put it away, probably thinking it was booze. The guy is a tough marker so didn't argue. It got all hot and flat and tasted horrible 2 hours later.
What a day. Will try to get it over as soon as I can. See you tomorrow... if there is one.
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8:07 AM
