Saturday, March 7, 2009

Crimson Tide



Like almost everyone else in America I watched `The Bachelor' finale. Unlike almost everyone else I watched it in the emergency room.

I hadn't watched The Bach since the heady days of Bob Guiney but the ever-increasing amount of yammering piqued my curiosity. 10PM Monday night, I switched over to ABC. 10:01, I felt a tingling in my scalp. That tingling quickly spread to my face, ears and neck. Embarrassment for the participants? No doubt. Humiliation that I'd been suckered into playing a part in our national delusion. Totally. But it was worse than that. I was red all over. And I mean ALL over. Red and hot and tingling like I'd just staggered in from six hours in the sweltering heat. My heart: pounding. My pulse: racing.

Two minutes later I was in the emergency room of LA's Olympia hospital. Still head to toe red, hot and tingling. And even though my trigger finger had begun twitching the moment The Bach's smarmy face appeared on screen, I was stuck in the hospital waiting room and had to endure the entire fiasco.

By the time I was ready to be examined the red had faded. My heart had reduced to it's normal sluggish pace. My blood pressure had dropped down from the stratosphere. The next day I high-tailed it to my fancy Beverly Hills doctor who listed a vast and terrifying array of possible ailments that might have contributed to my plight. In the end he had no answers. The reddening has not, to date, re-occurred. Which shoots down the theory that my body was actually rebelling against being forced to endure so much bad TV. `Cuz, I mean, I sat through the season premiere of America's Next Top Model and not a flicker. .

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