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Oct 18, 2008 01:13

I remember that Benny had worked for St. Vincent's for six years and hated humanity like poison, but loved the idea of being an emergency worker. He played scratch off lottery tickets daily, knew every cop in the neighborhood, and once got a limo full of Italian touristas to flash us.

I remember DeFritas, the Haitian who hated white people but said that I was, "A hard worker" and "Smart for a hick cracker."

I remember James, the 9/11 medic who told me that after the towers fell the day of he wandered from Lower Manhattan all the way to 37th street in a daze before hooking a ride with a late-coming fire truck back to the wreckage.

I remember rat bones and cockroaches skittering to the blood dripping out of the mouth of a man who'd thrown himself in front of a subway.

I remember Smith & Wollensky's steak sandwiches.

I remember a dead 18-year old girl in a hotel room that smelled like piss in a bucket of chicken.

I remember throngs of terrified people begging me to tell them that it wasn't a bomb.

I remember a sweet Brazilian girl whose life I saved, but I can't remember her face or her name.

I remember tourists from all over the world asking to be photographed with me next to the bus.

I remember that we shot so much fucking narcan into Joey J. that we started to wonder if he'd shoved heroin up his ass.

I remember a man with a steak knife through his hand telling me that morphine was good shit.

I remember Leah being happy when Conan O'Brien checked her out on his way into 30 Rock.

I remember eating the Mr. Pink special at Two Boots pizza.
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