Paramedic at the Pentagon

Every Wednesday, Evan would meet me at the Pentagon for lunch. All of the security guys got to know him and he got in easier than anybody except a four-star general. One officer would ask about him every time I saw him for months after Evan stopped coming. When I would bring other friends in for tours, they would be so impressed by the friendliness of a place that greets me, one of 20,000+ employees, with a "Hey, how's your brother doin'?" Evan is famous like that.

Every week we would get some fast food, and I let him pay, but I always met him out front first. One day I met him and he was with a police officer and his hand was bloody. He had cut his finger on a kitchen knife at home, bled all over the kitchen and bathroom, washed his finger, wrapped his hand in paper towel, and then taken the bus to meet me. Thank goodness I worked only 1 mile from home and that my office had a flexible schedule and understanding boss.

The officer had stopped Evan to give him a bandaid and a new papertowel, but you couldn't tell how deep the cut was and it was still bleeding, so they offered to call EMS.

I didn't know what to do. I pictured 2-3 nurses with better bandaids and a knowledge of finger-cut depths and solutions. So I said sure.

A firetruck showed up five minutes later.

That was the only med unit available, and they were prepared for bigger stuff than a cut finger. After three minutes of firefighter support, an EMS ambulance also arrived.

After the firetruck left, a medic washed his finger, put on a bandaid, the bleeding stopped, and he said Evan needed stitches. We took a bus to a nearby urgent care center and three stitches later we headed to Costco for lunch and antibiotics from the pharmacy.

Driving later that day to Alexandria for a meeting, Evan started waving his injured hand around. He smiled and said, "See, I can still conduct music!"