Tuesday, October 05, 2004


I approached the chauffeur standing next to the pristine white limo. "You're here for the transplant team?"

He nodded and introduced himself as Roy. I introduced myself as well, and stooped to enter the car as he opened the door.

But halfway in, I stopped.

A disco ball, leopard print seats, fiberoptic lighting, velour walls, and colored lights decorated the inside of the limo. It was as if I walked into a mobile night club. Strangely, a country-western song was playing softly in the background. Off in the far corner sat a resident that I've never seen before, wearing his white coat, scrubs, and a bewildered look on his face.

I backed out of the limo. "Roy, you're with the transplant harvest team? Going to Houma?"

"Yes. We're rented out of our usual limos. This party limo was the only one left."

So I shrugged and got in the limo. The rest of the transplant team soon followed, each boarding the car with a look of perplexed concern.

One of the guys asked, "Where are the strippers going to sit?"