One of my 'Sunday romp' participants from forty years ago reappeared on the radar screen. A friend of a friend who knew I knew him, from way back when, (BMWOA days), told me he was in the hospital's 'serious ward'.
The visit had the bunny-suit infectious protocols in place, infectious wards are eerie places. Waist down he looked like a lab experiment gone awry, I looked like a Looney Tunes extra while I checked the closures of my bunny-suit. No fist bumps, bro-hugs or untouched lunch tray thefts for me.
The doctor came in on rounds in just his signature white jacket and stethoscope. What the hell? Nope, just a very bad reaction to a bug bite, not the tick thing either, he said. Showed us the point on the ankle where it started. (Pedicure gift card this yule.) The bunny suit will be saved for the New Year's masked ball this season.
Anyway, the tribe totem no longer has a missing face. The blip's cause emerged and a new round of romp may ensue. Airheads forever!