Bob

Batz

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December 19, 2007

A Christmas Adventure and our Friendly Reindeer Savior

This is a story about a pre-Christmas adventure and one really, really friendly reindeer.

My wife Sally and I recently spent some time at a hospital near our home when our daughter-in-law Tanya underwent surgery. When the operation was over, we said our goodbyes and left her room to head back to the hospital’s parking garage.

That’s when our adventure began.

It didn’t start out to be an adventure, of course, but that’s OK because the best adventures always come as complete surprises.

When we left Tanya’s room, Sally and I figured our return to the parking garage would be a proverbial piece of cake because all we had to do was retrace the route we took when we arrived at the hospital seven hours earlier and we’d be on our way home.

We were wrong.

The hospital is approximately the same size as Rhode Island, or maybe Wyoming.

The hospital’s parking garage seems to tower 50, possibly 60 stories above the Dayton, Ohio landscape and is large enough to hold at least three, possibly four million cars.

Five minutes after Sally and I set out for the parking garage to retrieve our car so we could head for home, we found ourselves hopelessly confused by a maze of dead-end corridors and securely-locked doors.

Twice we were separated when elevator doors closed too quickly. Time and again we asked passersby for directions to the parking garage.

Time and again those passersby gave us the wrong directions for finding the garage.

At one point, a man advised us to enter the garage, and then walk to our car. Unfortunately, when I attempted to do that I discovered the garage’s concrete floor had been transformed into a massive skating rink by the melted snow and sub-freezing temperatures.

That’s when it dawned on me that we might be doomed to wander forever the endless corridors of a major metropolitan medical facility with no chance of ever seeing our children, grandchildren or view prime-time TV commercials for medications with side-effects more dangerous than the symptoms of the diseases they are supposed to cure.

I suddenly found myself wishing we’d brought along a sandwich or two to help us survive our unexpected ordeal. Or, better yet, maybe a six-pack of ice cold beers.

Then, just when we’d all but given up any hope of ever going home, we came upon two hospital employees seated at a desk on one of the many floors we’d visited that day.

One of the women had a pair of those plastic reindeer antlers that are popular at Christmas time perched on her head.

“I’m going to ask them to help us get out of here,” Sally declared, heading for the desk.

I quickly took her arm and whispered, “Please be subtle, OK? I mean, don’t let on we are l-o-s-t because . . . well . . . um . . . it’s embarrassing.”

“No problem,” Sally said, approaching the desk.

“Good evening,” the woman wearing the antlers said with a smile. “May we help you?”

“We’re lost and we want out of here,” Sally replied.

“That’s subtle as hell,” I said to myself, and our antlered savior started talking to my wife.

“Do you know what level of the garage you are parked on?” the woman behind the desk asked.

“The lower level,” Sally told her.

That’s when the woman behind the desk started rattling off directions for getting to the parking garage. But she quickly abandoned that approach, smiled again and said, “Why don’t I just call a security officer and he’ll drive you to your car?”

When Sally said, “That would be wonderful,” the woman dialed the phone.

“Hello, security,” she said. “We have an elderly couple here who need a ride to the parking garage.”

For just a moment, I toyed with the idea of protesting the “elderly couple” thing, but I didn’t and less than a minute later we were on our way home . . . thanks to one really, really friendly reindeer. 

© 2007 North Star Writers Group. May not be republished without permission.

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