Kearney Zyzzwicz was at home on Saturday morning when he experienced some mild tingling on the left side of his body. Though he was willing to monitor this from the comfort of his bedroom, his partner, Corky Jones, wasn’t about to take risks with Zyzzwicz’s health. As if stricken by the cursed stare of Phobos, Jones had death visions of an imminent heart attack and called an ambulance on Zyzzwicz’s behalf. (Phobos is the Greek god of fear and panic. This is where the term “phobia” derives from. At the Squeaky Wheel, our staff writers are fluent in the classics and are nerds).
Zyzzwicz objected that this was unnecessary: the emergency room was only thirteen blocks away from their apartment. But Jones was having none of it – the Reaper was nearing the door; there was no time to waste. (The Reaper is a reference to the Grim Reaper, a popular depiction of death in Western culture dating back to the bubonic plague. It’s likelier you’ve come across this reference before, but still, just in case).
There was – in fact – time to waste. The ambulance arrived 45 minutes later, by which time Zyzzwicz and Jones would have already made it to the ER if they had walked. Zyzzwicz received some blood tests and imaging, which indicated healthy cardiovascular functioning, then went home feeling normal. This didn’t soothe the pain of the ambulance bill, which totaled $1,100 – more than $200 of Zyzzwicz’s current savings, which seems… steep?
To put it in simple terms, $1,100 to get paddy-wagoned down the road is such a bogus ripoff, man. Just take an Uber to the hospital, and uh, free Luigi (from the haunted mansion, of course)?