Friday night, we went to this little hotel bar named Our Place. Ordered some rum runners.
All of a sudden, Chris and his friend, Dean, are arguing. "You go! My certification isn't even current anymore.." "No, you go!" I couldn't figure out what was going on, trying to make sense of what they were saying.
Then I realized there was a small cluster of people by the hotel pool. Trying to revive a man, wet and laying on the side of the pool.
It was 11 p.m. on a Friday night and no one was sober enough to know what the hell happened. One lady went to get ice 10 minutes before and saw the guy swimming. When she came back, he was laying at the bottom of the pool. Another lady said, "We saw him go to the bottom, but we thought he was messing around." She didn't seem at all.. remorseful. Not that it was her fault, but it was just strange.
Chris, who was perfectly sober like me, did chest compressions. But to no use; the guy was gone. I was standing at the back and couldn't hear, but apparently Chris was trying to get someone to do mouth-to-mouth but everyone was too drunk or, I dunno.. scared? I'm disappointed that I didn't take the CPR class I was thinking of doing a good six months ago. Who thinks that stuff will actually come in handy? I guess we have classes periodically through work, though, so I guess I'll take it when it's available here.
When the ambulance arrived, we went back to the bar. The horrible lounge singer apparently didn't know what was going on outside and kept on crooning an awful rendition of "American Pie."
We skipped the rum runners and went home.
