For Noah.

My brother regularly reads my blog. And that's half the reason I started doing this, so my family could hear stories about what I do and the things and people I see and meet. He enjoys the stories, but said it was a little sad. I agree. These stories are inspired by things and people I see at work. Good or bad, pretty or ugly, happy or sad, they follow me home like a loyal Labrador retriever. They follow me to my cold basement where I sit cuddled next to my small space heater and pen these intricate, philosophical stories of life.

This is for you, Noah.

Every paramedic waits for that one, big, life-altering call. The one where when you get sent everyone else turns green with envy. The one that makes you smile and makes them frown. The one call that makes Bob Kendrick from News Channel 9 camp outside the Paramedic Division to get that up-close, life-inspiring interview (or Linda Cavanaugh if you live in Oklahoma).

I came pretty close to one of those calls the other day.

It was at the Diamond Cabaret. Even if you're not from Denver, you probably have an idea of what type of joint this is just by the name. The Diamond Cabaret, gentlemen’s club of Denver. The Diamond, where stars are born, dreams are crushed, marriages a ruined, and wallets are left shamelessly voided of all dollar bills.

You may have thought it would have been rescuing babies from burning buildings. Or saving city officials from the clutches of the eternal, cold darkness of death. Or feats of valiant heroism by saving families in distress.

Nope. That's not what simmers in the thoughts of the bored paramedic sitting cramped in that idling ambulance in 7-11. Those aren't the calls, exciting as they may be, that'll put a grin on that paramedic's face.

It's the Strip Club call.

It was Friday night. It was summer. And it was time for me to join the ranks of paramedics that have run Strip Club Calls. We entered the building, radios blaring and flashlights cutting paths through the round tables. Everyone looked our direction, briefly, and then went about their business. The stripper in the shower, playing with the soap bubbles, waved hello. It was official; I was now among the few that have run a Strip Club call.

Hang Dopamine, check. Vent a chest, check. Run a strip club call, check.

We were escorted to the locker room. Here, on the floor, the patient rested. She was wearing, or not wearing -depending on how you look at it- her "uniform". Bambi, Cheyenne, Candy, and Lexus all counted their dollar bills as Van Halen rocked in the other room. Her friend, she looked like a Trixie to me, frantically chattered on the cell phone, being as this was an emergency and she felt the need to inform everyone in their inner circle. The fire guys stood around smiling. My partner stood beside me, although he was nowhere near me. And I did my best to talk to the patient as more ladies filtered in.

We were in the Lions Den. We had passed security and made it to the heart of the club. We were deemed safe, and not a threat. And because of this, Roxanne, Essence, and Jasmine all disrobed and walked around in high heels and lipstick continuing to do what it was that they normally did. The locker room "mom" stood in the corner smiling. At one point she looked at us all, all 8 of us, and asked if we were enjoying ourselves.

With a squint in my eye and a crooked smile on my face I looked at fire and said, "We're good here." Meaning, they could leave. They looked at me and smiled, "OK". They didn't leave.

We loaded up the patient. I asked if she needed anything, more specifically, clothes. And she said no. We were ready to go. I nudged my partner and awoke him from his comatose state. He flinched and quickly pretended to act important. Still frantic, her friend, her roommate, and her dancing coworker asked if she could go. "Of course you can go", I said.

She folded her one-dollar bills and squeezed them into her small, glittering purse. Her stiletto heels clicked as she shuffled around the room. Sierra, Houston, and Amber all kissed her goodbye and wished them luck. Porsche winked and blew me a kiss. She was next on the main stage.

"Ma'am", I said. "If you want to come with us we need to leave now. This could be an emergency and we may be wasting valuable time". I said that without laughing and suppressing every urge to smile or giggle.

"Do I have time to change?" She was wearing her favorite black dancing bra and some lacey skirt-thing.
"Well" I said, "You can try, but we may have to leave quickly".

She grabbed her bag-a-ones and followed us out the ambulance.

Off we went to the ED. One ambulance, two paramedics, and two half-dressed strippers.

This story may not make you laugh, but I know it'll put a smile on your face.

Like I said before. You can't make this stuff up!