Jackie Chan vs. the Coke Machine

My mom and I were once again privileged to spend our evening and early morning hours in the presence of doctors, nurses, mechanical hospital beds, oxygen tubes, and portable plastic urinals. Partially filled. Lovely. In the midst of our ER visit last night, despite the ridiculous rants coming across the hall from an 18-year-old rebellious and depressed pimple-head, we found solace in the little room playing hangman on the white board and teaching/learning Italian. I must say she’s a good learner despite her age. That melon isn’t as overly ripe as I thought. Good going, Lady.

Hours passed as is common in the Emergency Room, with little direction or progress (similar to the style of US Government…crap, did I just say that?), and we noticed our blood-sugar levels teetering on cliff’s edge. But some genius, 5 years ago, thought to put vending machines in during the construction of Sky Ridge Hospital, vending machines which skillfully accept credit cards from debt-ridden people. “Suck us dry, insurance companies! Suck us dry, hospital admissions and billing departments! I may bleed all my money-blood for you, but I’ll walk away with my Twix and Coke in hand.” In fact, these little machines give us the air of having the upper hand in this business. Thank you, Mr. Vending-Machine Inventor. Mwah.

We’d charged $1.90 already to her credit card and had a bag of Cheetos and a Snickers to show for it. We moved on to the Coke machine. One dollar and a quarter. Note that we’d scrounged for this change before we knew these machines took plastic and literally threw away some of it in the trash by accident, and desperate for ‘nourishment,’ dove in after it. Weary at such a hideous hour, a bit disheveled by the evening’s events, and with eyes resembling alarmed blowfish, my mom sought the coin slot that’d take her money. I watched in amusement at her desperation and confusion. Finally, she found it. Bummer…I was having fun. Oh but fun was about to come. She put the 5 quarters in and in all her excitement about finally selecting and receiving a Dr. Pepper, she balled her right fist and outright punched the front of the vending machine. NOT the Dr. Pepper button as most would do. She punched the logo displayed on the front of the machine with force enough to bow the plastic inwards. The machine was caught off-guard. Who wouldn’t be?! Some desperate 5′3″ over-stressed lady just attacked you, knocking the air out of your gut. Needless to say, the machine surrendered its goods and the Lady walked away quite content and satisfied at her mid-life strength.