I'm No Superman, Part 1

The following events and dialogue transpired in the early morning of Tuesday, February 13, 2007. Because of the looming ice storm, the regularly scheduled employees of INOVA Fair Oaks Hospital were unable to make it in. In their place, the cast of TV’s Scrubs.

JD: You know, the most amazing thing about working in a hospital is that a new patient can walk in that door at any moment. It could be right before you’re ready to go home, or sit down to lunch in the cafeteria, but sometimes, on the dullest of graveyard shifts, the miracle of –
Turk: Dude, who are you typing to?
JD: Oh, these good Internet people, Brown Bear.
Turk: Oh, and by the way, that inner monologue thing you always do at the beginning and end of commercial breaks? Yeah, we can hear that.
JD: Really?
Turk: Yeah. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go see if Carla will take my ER to her mother. I want to have her replace the pockets on them with actual Hot Pockets.
JD: Later, man. As I was saying, it’s the graveyard shift that brings in the real fun people. Or at least the tall ones.
Carla: Hey Bambi – you really should get a move on and stop staring at the ceiling with your silly little monologues. We just got Katie Condon checked in to Room LDR1, and her husband is with her. They seem sleepy.
JD: Yes, it is true – they were indeed sleepy. Katie had been up for two nights laboring, and despite her husband’s extra-terrestrial ability to sleep anytime and anywhere, he had been recording contractions (with limited coherence and amplified hilarity). This is why I left them, Carla – in their room to sleep. Katie was resting peacefully in her bed and Chris – well – that’s a different story.
Dr. Cox: Newbie!
JD: (yes, my right-hand man, Dr. Cox has come again to congratulate my swift action) What is it, good sir Doctor Cox?
Cox: Oh nothing, newbie. It’s just that I see the patient’s husband didn’t quite figure out that that chair he’s in folds out into three sections and thusly, one long bed. There’s probably a good reason for this, perhaps his immediate need to remain peaceful and non-confrontational or hell, I don’t know, maybe he likes pretzels so much that he has opted to sleep like one. What I know, newbie, is like pretzels, all this explaining is making me thirsty when really in the first place all I had to say is that I blame you for negligence of demonstrating how the fold-out works and I’ll be gladly recommending you paycheck as a funding source for when he sues this God-forsaken place when he can’t play shortstop this spring for alumni softball. Yeah.
JD: (Ok, so maybe congratulations aren’t order. Did he say something about free pretzels?)

(six hours later)
Janitor: Hey Dorian.
JD: What do you want?
Janitor: Blond Doctor was looking for you. Wanted to tell you something important. She told me what it was in case that I saw you today, and here I am right in front of you, so don’t you have something to ask me?
JD: Um. Can you tell me the important news from Elliott?
Janitor: I’m sorry. That’ll cost you.
JD: That’s extortion! You may be holding vital medical information concerning my patient! Ok. Fine. How much do you want?
Janitor: Enough to buy a pretzel from the vending machine. I heard there were free ones earlier, but somebody didn’t save one for me.
JD: Fine, here, you bloodsucking janitor. Now what’s so important?
Janitor: (chewing) Oh, right. Um, your patient spent the morning relaxing in her room and taking it easy, thanks to our good friend The Epidural. Nothing new to report. Delivery still on schedule for this afternoon. Well, in hindsight, maybe she didn't say "Important" and instead said "Uninteresting."
JD: I’ve been swindled.

(Part II later)