Think your day is going bad? Well here's a little perspective to make you feel better.
"What the...? Is that a gum wrapper???"
Stop feeling sorry for yourself because you fumbled your food tray last time you walked through the company cafeteria.
A little spilled jello is something you can live with.
Instead, consider the emergency medical technician down in Mexico City who stumbled getting out of a police helicopter ...dropped his cooler ...and sent the human heart he was transporting rolling onto the sidewalk.
Now THAT'S embarrassing!
...And definitely a bad day.
No word yet if the guy waiting on the operating table was ever advised. We're guessing that's probably something a heart surgeon does not want to share right before a procedure. ("Buenos Dias, Senor Gonzalez. So...a funny thing happened on the helipad...")
According to Mexican health officials, because the international five-second rule was observed, (--the heart was immediately pounced on, picked-up, brushed off, and returned to the cooler along with some sandwiches and a couple of Coronas), ...no local sanitary codes were violated and no further action was necessary. Said one hospital official, "Hey...as far as we know, that organ had cigarette butts stuck to it when it was donated."
Health authorities noted that they were not concerned with the palpitating projectile's direct contact with Mexico's legendary clean sidewalk system. However they further noted that because it had been directly exposed to the local air quality did mean there was now at least a 50% chance that by the time it got to the hospital it would resemble something you'd find on the back shelf of a broken refrigerator.
Oh well...
Que Sera, Sera.
A little spilled jello is something you can live with.
Instead, consider the emergency medical technician down in Mexico City who stumbled getting out of a police helicopter ...dropped his cooler ...and sent the human heart he was transporting rolling onto the sidewalk.
Now THAT'S embarrassing!
...And definitely a bad day.
No word yet if the guy waiting on the operating table was ever advised. We're guessing that's probably something a heart surgeon does not want to share right before a procedure. ("Buenos Dias, Senor Gonzalez. So...a funny thing happened on the helipad...")
According to Mexican health officials, because the international five-second rule was observed, (--the heart was immediately pounced on, picked-up, brushed off, and returned to the cooler along with some sandwiches and a couple of Coronas), ...no local sanitary codes were violated and no further action was necessary. Said one hospital official, "Hey...as far as we know, that organ had cigarette butts stuck to it when it was donated."
Health authorities noted that they were not concerned with the palpitating projectile's direct contact with Mexico's legendary clean sidewalk system. However they further noted that because it had been directly exposed to the local air quality did mean there was now at least a 50% chance that by the time it got to the hospital it would resemble something you'd find on the back shelf of a broken refrigerator.
Oh well...
Que Sera, Sera.
"Hello? Yeah? Speak up. I"m at the symphony"
Then again, some bad days have less to do with science, and more to do with the arts.
Take the case of the smart-phone sophisticate who took a front row seat but neglected to silence his ringer, and thus managed to bring a Tuesday night performance by the New York Philharmonic to a complete, awkward, and painfully silent halt...except for the crickets and the sound of icy stares burning into his flesh.
It's still not clear (most likely because, now, nobody wants to talk to him) what was so urgent to the offender as to justify leaving the ringer on (biopsy?), what the ring tone was (Inna Gadda Da Vida?), and most importantly, just who was making that call?
In a perfect world?
...A Philharmonic fundraiser.
Take the case of the smart-phone sophisticate who took a front row seat but neglected to silence his ringer, and thus managed to bring a Tuesday night performance by the New York Philharmonic to a complete, awkward, and painfully silent halt...except for the crickets and the sound of icy stares burning into his flesh.
It's still not clear (most likely because, now, nobody wants to talk to him) what was so urgent to the offender as to justify leaving the ringer on (biopsy?), what the ring tone was (Inna Gadda Da Vida?), and most importantly, just who was making that call?
In a perfect world?
...A Philharmonic fundraiser.
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