Baba O'Riley

Riding through the city, with my iPod playing, and The Who comes on. I didn't plan on The Who, as I normally have to be in the "mood" for their music. I won't argue their artistic talents with anyone, just not my normal taste.

Baba O'Riley.

Or, as the uninitiated call it, "Teenage Wasteland."

This song reminds me of one of my favorite partners, who, because of this song, I now refer to as "Sally." I have been graced with some of the best partners anyone could ever have asked for in my career, and was deserving of very few of them. We only spent 9 months together, until the Cajun took my place. I wish it could have been longer.

Our first shift together was at a strange transition. I had just finished three months of critical care training, third rides and monumental amounts of studying, along with a change in shifts from a day truck, back to nights.

"Hi. Are you going to be my new partner?"

"Hurrrumphff. I don't know."

"Well, I'm excited."

"Mmmmmmhmmmm."

Fifteen minutes of silence as we drove to our posting location for the evening in a fine, upstanding neighborhood full of food stamps and illegal aliens.

"Hey, do you want some Gouda?"

"Some what?"

"Gouda. You know, cheese. And crackers?"

"Seriously?" (I mean, who seriously brings Gouda and crackers to work on an ambulance?)

"Sure. Thanks."

We turned out to work fantastically together. We shared lots in common. We both have a child around the same age. We shared many nights of Handel on the Law podcasts, and yelling at dispatchers. We shared watermelon gum and hunts for clean bathrooms. She reaffirmed my love for iced coffee. We lived close to each other. She introduced me to some interesting and new beer, and I introduced her to limoncello. (Off duty, of course.) We shared a mutual hatred for people who abuse the 911 system, and the nurses who were of a below-average intellect who we turned over said people to. We shared many evenings watching the patrons of the local immigrant club, and enjoyed the transvestite Thursdays. And she brought good food to work, and always shared.

She told me the stories of moving to the west coast for the forests and hiking. And how she had to move back because she ran out of money. She is, and was, the ideal partner. I look forward to the chance meetings we have, as we now work opposite rotations, she at night, and me during the day. I like hearing her call me "Big Daddy." And I miss working with her.

"Sally take my hand. We'll travel south cross land."

The Cajun had better take care of her.