HOSPITAL ZONE

We are here in the Ft. Lauderdale area to be with John’s dad during a critical illness.  I’m not going to write about that.  It’s a grim reality which we all may face some day.

We arrived in Miami ahead of time and then had to wait almost an hour for our luggage.  Then we got messed up trying to follow the signs to  I-95 and lost another half an hour.  Isn’t it amazing how when you want to get some place quickly, fate steps in to lend a hand?  Anyway, we made it to the hospital around 10 PM after landing at 7:29.

Now here’s a sign of the times, on the door next to the entrance to the hospital there is a picture of a handgun with a diagonal line through it.  No handguns here!  So what does a packing visitor say to himself?  “Oh darn, now I’ll have to run back to the car and leave my handgun there?”  Don’t you think if a person was carrying a handgun into the hospital that a sign wouldn’t stop him? 

John and I frisked each other and felt we were in compliance.  What an odd place this is!

 

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