The Big Game

Sunday night means I'm visiting my folks and it's time for us to go to King Cole's for a round of gin and tonics.
Distant sirens wailed as we parked.
"That'd be funny if it was coming to King Cole's" I joked, "Frank's cooking got another one!"
It wasn't funny when it did come to King Cole's. The ambulance pulled up. EMTs ran in.
"I guess we'll have to go somewhere else," I said.
"Nah," said my dad. "I don't smell a fire. We can still go in."
"With an emergency going on!?"
"Hurry up," My mom said. "It's cold out here."
I was sure we'd be thrown out at the front door, but the waitress flagged us in. The place was packed with Super bowl watchers and only one table was available.
The former occupant of the table sat ten feet away, surrounded by medics.
"They think she's having a stroke," the waitress said. "Three gin and tonics tonight?"
EMTs and a crowd glued to the superbowl screen. blocked my view of the victim. Collapse anywhere else and you draw a crowd. Collapse in a bar and no one notices. She probably had to call 911 herself. Even the paramedic guys were stealing glances at the T.V. Not that I was any better then them. Football bores me. I was gawking.
It was weird. A few months back it was my mom being hauled off in an ambulence with a sroke. Now she with us, back to normal (mostly), in the same seat of someone else who'd just been yanked into a their surprise medical crisis. Tessts, needles, procedures, paperwork, pills, physical therepy, disability and possible mortal danger awaited. Meanwhile Mom was squeezing her lime into her drink, chit chatting and blending in with the world of Everyone Else.
Fate can be such a smartass.