The Night I Could Have Died (but Laughed Instead): Missouri

Hello dear friends, readers, and enemies. It has been far too long since I lasted posted, and much has happened. Basically, I have stories enough to fill a library, but who wants to read all of the daily exploits of a lone man? Suffice it to say that I've been to Seattle, Kansas City, Kennewick, Salt Lake City, Independence, and Wichita. After so many travels it should be apparent that I have much to tell. I don't like sitting in front of a computer for very long and I strongly encourage others to reduce their screen time so I've taken a poll asking people what kind of stories they would like to hear. The winner is indubitably the category of "Old Memories." What constitutes an 'old memory'? I'm only twenty-two, for goodness sake. I've decided that old is relative and the story I'm going to tell is from approximately two years ago.
It happened on a cold February night (and by cold I mean my tears froze to my face.) Anyway, I was about 17 months into my mission, and I thought I had seen just about everything. I hadn't. My companion and I got a call from some sister missionaries in our zone saying that they were at the hospital and were wondering if we could come sit with them in the waiting room. This is at 11 pm, mind you. So Josh (formerly known as Elder Terrasas) and I hopped in the car and took the 40 minute drive to the hospital to rescue the poor dears. (This was all done with permission of course.) When we finally arrived we were exhausted, frustrated (we got lost more than once in the downtown Kansas City streets), and a bit peeved that the sisters had gone to one of the most dangerous hospitals in our mission boundaries. The first thing that I noticed was that I was the only white man in the whole office that wasn't wearing scurbs or a stethoscope. Now race is not an issue to me. Usually. But when it comes down to it it's just not safe for a lone white man to be alone in downtown Kansas City at night. Well, I wasn't alone. I had Josh with me, but what chance does a 5'7 Mexican and a 5'9 Jew stand against a cold metal gun. No chance at all. Anyway, the Lord was on my side that night. The only thing I became a target for were complaints. Apparently the little white man is supposed to have power. Within minutes of arrival, after having found the sisters in the ER waiting room (where they had been for 7 hours now), a man came up to me and started complaining about how the orderlies "was kickin' sick people wy (while) they down,' and he wanted to know what I was 'goin' do 'bout it.' I, of course, had no solution to his dilemma. I got the full story later. Apparently, he had been sleeping on the floor of the ER which violated fire codes and such. A nurse had come up and tapped the man with his foot and asked him to sit in a chair. The man jumped off the floor and went on a five minute rant about how wrong it was to 'kick sick people wy they down.' I was supposed to make it better. I said sorry and walked away.
Many more incredible and exceedingly funny things happened that night. We were at the hospital until 6 in the A.M. The next day was brutal, but the stories we have are certainly fun to tell. Next time I'll tell you a story that is a bit more recent. I feel that my exploits in Seattle are worth mentioning as well as my trip to Kansas City. And in 20 days I shall have tales of sunshine and beaches to warm your winter weary hearts, because I'm going to Hawaii! Then in Dec. I will share the details of my trip to Boston which is sure to be a winner in more ways than one ; ) Stay strong. Do good, be good!