The Blood Bus is coming again and not a moment too soon.
I'm feeling quite full and it's time to purge. Additionally, I stand to gain one free dinner at a local steak house AND another free t-shirt. There are many benefits to a Blood Bus visitation, and although the process is intended to be a donation, I always seem to exit with more in my possession than I did prior to climbing aboard.
One of those items is knowledge.
I ask questions and they answer with abbreviated responses that no doubt have lengthy, complicated answers with massive amounts of science associated with them. But that's okay, I can fill in the blanks.
I enjoy the process overall, even the initial meeting with the lady that pricks one of my fingers, a tradition that generally hurts more than the big extraction needle they plunge into my vein shortly thereafter. Then she demands the revealing of my arms in the event there is a deep, dark secret hidden under the long sleeves.
Upon each visit to the Blood Bus, a couple of things can always be depended on. For starters, a fellow donator will comment on how very cold the air is inside the vehicle, which is followed by a technician's smarmy remark regarding bad blood if the air gets too warm.
Another technician will ask what size shirt I require, and when I respond "Large" they will inform me, with a smile, that "Medium" and "Extra Large" are the only two options. This, of course, would be healthy information to have attained upfront, but it seems that these Blood Extraction Specialists have a running inside joke at their patients' expense.
And then the showering of gifts.
The oversized shirt. The cookies. The juice. The gift certificate for a free steak dinner. The package of hypodermic needles, rubbery medical tubing and plastic blood holder bag thingy.
It's quite the goody bag to say the least. Blood Bus occupants are a generous people.
It's quite the goody bag to say the least. Blood Bus occupants are a generous people.
And of course there is the social interaction with modern vampires and the invaluable information contained within their heads. They extract my blood. I extract their knowledge. Only seems fair.
Today's Jazz Hands look forward to Wednesday's appointment.
Day two-hundred and fifty-nine complete.
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