Archive for the ‘clinic escort stories’ Category

It’s been a while since I escorted, thanks to two months of mental and financial fuckery (things have smoothed over with my public assistance, thanks much), so I returned last week, just in time for 40 Days of Life.  Again.

I don’t understand why.  It’s not even Lent.  Do they need attention that badly.

Don’t answer that.  I already know the answer. Yes.

Since WordPress doesn’t play nice with Storify, here’s the link.  I hope you enjoy!

So, today is Saturday and that means I get up early, gather my wits and my cane and stand out in front of a reproductive health clinic, watching for and assisting patients getting inside.  We have protesters and so-called “sidewalk counselors” who try their damnest to harass each and every person they think is going in for an abortion.

Why do I call it harassment, you may wonder?  Because they can’t take “no”, “no thank you”, “leave me alone”, “get out of my face”, and/or “fuck off” as an answer, and when you continue to pester someone after they have refused your attention, that’s harassment in my book and in the books of most reasonable people.

You may also be wondering now, “why doesn’t anyone get the police involved?”.  Because that means the harassed has to make the call, come out of the clinic to make a statement, and potentially miss their appointment.  Given that abortions are rather time-sensitive deals (they cost more and become more complicated procedures the greater the gestation period), it’s not good for the patient to have to wait and deal with this nonsense.

And nothing pleases an anti like someone unable to make that appointment.

Here in the Twin CIties, we haven’t heard much from the far off the deep end anti organization Abolish Human Abortion, or as I will be referring to them, AHAssholes.  This is a Protestant movement who thinks if they bleat for Jesus loud and long enough, abortion will just vanish and no one would even dream of doing such a sinful thing.

Yeah, not exactly in touch with reality, these guys.

Starting a few month ago, I noticed a few AHAssholes at my clinic, standing there, holding their signature signs.

IMG_20150404_090144_1_1

One is Black and when I commented to my fellow escort that the signs were large and gross, started calling me “sister” and trying to get me to explain why I found them gross.

Strike one: Never call me sister if we’re on opposite sides of what I can do with my body

Strike two: I don’t have to speak to you

Strike three; You’re AHA.  Fuck offf.

Frankly, if you’re Black and find it okay to hang with a bunch of ‘abolitionists’ for fetuses, given the history our people have had with abolition of not only our bodies but what we chose to do with them, then you were fuck out of strikes to begin with.

Anyway, their numbers and their fucking signs grew, and now we have a dedicated little mob.

IMG_20150523_084503

They even figured out how to lash their shitty signs to the poles so the wind doesn't blow them away.

They even figured out how to lash their shitty signs to the poles so the wind doesn’t blow them away.

Given what I have seen from reports from other escorts who have this infestation, I was expecting more irrational and obnoxious behavior out of them.

And I was right.  Calling patients murderers, standing by cars until patients get out (a move that our usual Catholics are ace at), fucking around with the property line even after being warned, and just being all around squirrely.

Today, they held up a poor patient who didn’t know she didn’t have to talk to them for minutes, filling her head will all kinds of lies.  I assured her once we were inside, that there were actual counselors upstairs (not 25 year olds with no training in actual counseling), who will listen and honor her choice, minus the obvious agenda.

As I came out, one of the AHAssoles fired off at me. “Don’t pretend like you don’t have an agenda yourself.”  Since “no interaction” is a rule for escorting here, I merely turned to my fellow escort and keep talking.

Since I couldn’t respond on the sidewalk, I will here.  And as usual, don’t expect me to be nice.

Dear AHAsshole,

You bet I have an agenda.  I don’t hide it for a second.

My agenda is to get patients inside of the clinic with dignity and safety.

My agenda is to support.

My agenda is to protect.

My agenda is to make your shitshow difficult to perform.

While you lie, I make a patient laugh.

While you fill them with fear, I give them compassion.

While you talk over them, I listen.

When they give me reasons, it’s because they want to, not because I’m demanding it from them.

And I honor those reasons.

My agenda is access to a safe, legal procedure that 99% percent of those having it will feel relief.

My agenda is choice and honoring that choice.

On the other hand, your agenda is fucked.  Your agenda swarms around people and harasses them.  Your agenda makes you act as if basic social niceties don’t apply to you. Your agenda is full of lies and deliberate shock plays.  Your agenda devalues the role the one with the pregnancy, all in the name of a non sentient fetus.  And I’m not just pulling this out of my ass: I’ve seen your work:

What about the body of the person carrying the fetus?  Don't they matter?  Also, why are you gendering a fetus? Most abortions happen before gender can be determined.

What about the body of the person carrying the fetus? Don’t they matter? Also, why are you gendering a fetus? Most abortions happen before gender can be determined.

With your ridiculous sounding offers to adopt someone’s baby right then and there and your sanctimonious wishes that patients don’t put themselves into hell.  It would be completely ridiculous, if it didn’t cause our patients distress.

It would be ridiculous if you didn’t picket high schools that have on site clinic for their students, like your recent one here at Southwest High?  I’m sure the kids were so moved by this shit:

I mean, these pamphlets start off like conspiracy theorist boilerplate:

AHA Lied To

…and then devolve into the same spit-flecked babble you’d get from those guys who show up at festivals with those big “God Hates” signs that are just a list of things that I’ve either done or know someone who has (really next time, read one of those signs and just see how many “sins” you’ve done or are, like Homosexuality or Rebellious Women or Drunkard):

Look at that.  If you’re going to wank on about god, at least be as ironically amusing as the label on a bottle of Dr. Bronner’s soap.

So yeah, dear AHAsshole.  I do have an agenda.  My agenda is to stop you.  From escorting to teaching about escorting, to writing these posts, to spreading information about what an abortion really is minus your scare tactics, I will use true compassion and education to combat your bullshit.

So stick that, and your signs right up your ass.

And stay off the property,

No Love,

Me

Blogmaster’s Note: This’ll be a long one, but worth it.  Also, if you come up with some some anti-choice argument BS, have your shit recent and accurate, or you WILL be shown the door.

Wow, when this piece of dreck popped up in a private FB group for escorts, it was universally panned.  I don’t tend to link to the sentient bullshit machine that is LifeSiteNews, but for this opportunity, I made an exception.  So I clicked and read this oh so special letter to us Clinic Escorts.

And the moment the page load, I’m assaulted by an autoplay pledge plea (I know I have Flashblock, so what the fuck?) of two twin douchebags who I’d never heard of, one of which introduces them as “I’m David Benham and this is my twin sister Jason.”

Mmm-mmm, that’s some tasty transphobic humor right there.

Anyway, they apparently lost some house-flipping show on HGTV because they opened their yaps and let the anti-gay, anti-choice out.  Insert commentary about how free speech is actually supposed to work here.

NothingofValue

Well, I was in a mood after pausing that crap video, so let’s get to the actual letter, shall we?

Dear Clinic Escort,

Hi there!

Today I saw you, with your bright orange vest emblazoned with ESCORT on the front and back. You refused to make eye contact with me.

Actually our vests (provided by the awesome folks at The Clinic Vest project) are eye melting yellow, but okay.  And as for ‘eye contact’? We become masters at the Thousand Yard Stare to ignore you and your repetitive and WRONG nonsense.  We’re escorts, not counterprotesters. You’re not owed an audience just because you think you have something important to say.  Not from strangers, not from patients, and certainly not from escorts.  Deal.

I saw your gritty determination as you grabbed arms with that young woman and whispered in her ear, “Ignore them,” you said, “Don’t look at them, they are here to intimidate you, to scare you. I’ll keep you safe, don’t worry.” You walked quickly, head up, steel in your eyes, never letting up your grip on her arm. Her head was down, following your lead, mutely keeping up with your fast trot to the abortionist.

We walk with patients who are terrified and angry at the horde of people who can’t take “no” for an answer, who surround cars and try to shove their crap into the windows. Congrats, you have accurately described our job (though we do tend to not touch the patients unless asked where I am because we believe in strange concepts like “respecting a person’s space”). Pity that will probably be the last accurate thing you will say in this entire ‘letter’.

You ushered her in through the doors and soon emerged, alone, smiling at us triumphantly, a glimmer of malice in your eye, a smirk of arrogance and joy at having bested us – another woman you saved from the anti-choice fanatics. You rejoin the other escorts, laughing and joking, until the next car pulls up, and your face resumes the mask of the militant soldier, ready to do battle for women’s reproductive rights.

Malice.  Militant soldiers. “Another woman saved…”

Oh god.  Hold up, I gotta stop laughing for a minute.  Making up your own interpretation of shit is something anti-choicers are really good at, I’ve noticed.  “Pro-life fanfiction”, I’ve heard it called. That’s not malice, it’s pride at helping patients enter with some dignity. We’re not “militant soldiers”, we’re volunteers done with your shit. They weren’t ‘saved’ from you.  They arrived at their appointments on time with as little harassment as possible. You’re turning it into some weird competition where there is none. But hey, whatever it takes to keep up that martyr complex. It’s just what Jesus would have done.  Or something.

As I watched you I wondered, have you ever been inside the clinic?

Nope.  They never let us inside the clinic.  They just hand out the vests and send us to work.

Oh wait, that’s complete bullshit.  Of course we’ve been inside the clinic.  The inside of the clinic where I escort looks like every other doctor’s office I’ve been in.  Clean, professional.  Only more purple. No charnel house look here.

Have you ever been in the waiting room, filled with the silence of trepidation and fear? Have you listened to the stifled tears?

A some escorts have either had abortions, or have been a companion to someone who has.  We even had a transgendered man volunteer who had one. I know you’re going for this “we don’t know what we do” angle, but we do.  We really do.

And trepidation and fear (and yes, tears) are natural reactions to a surgical procedure.  I felt that before my extensive dental surgery.  I did before my first endoscopy. Some people even feel it before giving birth. It’s natural.  Doesn’t make what’s about to happen wrong.

Have you ever been in the counseling room? This place, where instead of asking questions and listening, the worker masks the truth, or outright lies about the third life in the room, the life growing inside the woman’s womb?

I’m not a counselor, and we fill out patient privacy forms , so my answer will have to be no.  As for the information given, I think you may be confusing that with a CPC. From what people who have had abortions and actual counselors and doulas have shared (and the documentaries I’ve watched, After Tiller and 12th and Delaware), counselors, you know, counsel.  It’s their job to listen.  It’s their job to give ALL of the options.  And if a patient decides to only have an ultrasound, or changes their mind, it’s okay.  No one’s keeping patients trapped until they decide they way ‘we’ want, as CPCs are reported to do. That’s what choice means. Do you get it?

Probably not.

Have you seen her sad and scared eyes?

Yes. Badgering a patient outside of the clinic will do that.

Have you asked her why she is there?

I’m not a counselor, and neither are you. I swear, we get antis, who can’t take ‘no’ and ‘leave me alone’ for an answer, asking this question to complete strangers like they’re owed that answer. This might seem really strange to you, so I’ll put it bold so you get it: It’s none of our business. Not yours, not mine.  That is between the patient, the counselor, and the doctor. And maybe, if the patient is a believer, their relationship with a god.  Not yours.

That said, I have actually had patients, after we get them inside and away from your shit, volunteer that information.  And while you might deem all of these reasons not good enough for you, they are so damned no concern of mine.

I don’t give half a crap why a patient is there. It’s none of my business.

Do you know if she is being pressured or forced into this abortion, if she is safe at home…all the questions she won’t be asked inside the clinic? Does she know about all of the help available to her if she keeps the baby? Does she know how many couples would love to adopt her baby?

Wow.

Just, wow.

bitchyoutriedit

You do know that 9th Commandment is YOUR law to follow right?  The one about “not bearing false witness”?  That’s so much bearing of false witness I’m surprised your back isn’t broken from the strain. Counselors ASK these questions.  They provide help if the patients change their mind.  I’ve seen the brochures with my own eyes. And even if they change their mind, that’s not a victory for YOU, it’s a victory for the concept of CHOICE.

And seriously, adoption isn’t the opposite of abortion. This may shock you, but some people aren’t interested in continuing a pregnancy they don’t want. Fucking deal.

Yes, I know, I’m using filthy words now. That’s what I do when I’m pissed at disingenuous liars. And it’s only gonna get worse.

My dear Clinic Escort, have you been there for the ultrasound, where you can see the fully formed baby kicking its arms and legs? Have you heard the worker tell her it is just a bunch of cells? A blob? A product of conception?

You’re asking me if I’ve seen ultrasounds before?  Why yes.  From parents happily expecting, and from people who have decided on abortion.  The majority of abortions are performed in the first trimester – too tiny to have those kicking arm and legs.  And even if we’re talking second trimester, why does that matter? If someone doesn’t want to continue a pregnancy, they get to not continue a pregnancy.

Have you been with her, holding her hand as she screams in pain, ignored by a doctor who doesn’t even know her name?Have you heard the suction machine, watch as the blood, tissue, and body parts flow from her body into a cold jar? Have you heard the sound of the currette scraping her uterus? Have you seen the body parts – an arm, a leg, a piece of a rib cage, poured into a baggie as though it were scraps of meat?

Christ, are you getting off on this nonsense? While anesthetic affects people differently, they still get it. And yes, thanks to brave people who record and report their own procedures, we get to see how the shit works, sans your overdramatic overdescriptions.

Also, are you sure you’re still talking to us “dear Clinic Escorts”? We don’t go into the procedure rooms during procedures. We don’t go into the counselling rooms during counseling. And if we’re curious, we can ASK.  We can research.  I did an entire talk as a layman to other laymen about basic abortion procedures.  So, yeah, keep on with the drama, you can’t fool me.

Have you sat with her in the recovery room as she stares off into space, desperate to get away from this place so she never has to think of it again?

We’re not doulas or patient advocates, so no. But, since I’ve been trained as an abortion doula, by people who have been doing it for a while, I’m more willing to trust their word on the reactions in the recovery room.  Sometimes, there’s tears.  Sometimes, there’s vomiting, because anesthesia.  Most time, it’s relief.

Don’t believe me? Look up some positive abortion stories.  I’m Not Sorry has been running since 2004.

Have you been with her through the depression and the anxiety that plague her after the abortion? The breakup of her relationship? Have you helped her through her drug addiction, her binge drinking? Have you been there when she is unable to bond with her children? When her marriage falls apart? Will you be there when she attempts suicide? Will you be at her funeral when she succeeds?

LiaraFuckThis

I…I can’t even with this bullshit, but damnit, I’m gonna try.

Firstly, as someone who struggles with depression and the like, go fuck yourself.  It’s people like you who KEEP people with these issues from speaking up, unless they’re willing to join your guilt parade.  Yes, some people emotionally react poorly to having an abortion.  Most (and you can look that shit up yourself) don’t.

Secondly, go fuck yourself, because if this theoretical woman did all of these things, your sanctimonious ass wouldn’t be at that funeral either.

Thirdly, there are support for people going through issues after an abortion that don’t involve the guilt trip.  Backline and Exhale.  Look them up, and go fuck yourself.

Fourthly, and most importantly, GO FUCK YOURSELF.

Dear Clinic Escort, look into my eyes.

*flips both birds*

vtLap8s

They have seen things you could never imagine. Things that have made me scream in the middle of the night. Things that are never discussed in the intellectualized, feminist world of abortion rights.

Some escorts have had abortions. Some escorts have had abortions. Some escorts have had abortions. Some escorts have had abortions.

Because while you see a job well done when you usher her through those doors, her nightmare is just beginning.

Did I mention the going and fucking yourself?  Because you can go do that now.

But before you do, I asked a few fellow escorts to chime in on your bullshit.

Nick V:

WTF is this nonsense? I know our counsellors DO ask those questions. I know our clinic would never ‘encourage’ a women who was unsure to just go ahead and have an abortion. Heck we saved women from boyfriends that were trying to force them to have one. This is horseshit.

Rivka:

I don’t give a rats ass what decision she makes. I don’t have a personal investment if if she stops to talk with you. I don’t get personal satisfaction from people choosing to have an abortion. I am there to let people access health care. I have never grabbed a patient. I have never smirked walking out. I chat with patients. Hell, I sometimes say half my job is keeping the antis from getting punched. Why in the world would you think I *care* how many people have abortions? I don’t care. I just want them to have *access*. It’s not a game where you win or I win.

And yes, I’ve been in the waiting room. I see women who are tired, women who are reading a book, women who are chatting. I have had women tell us that they feel better, I’ve had plenty of women thank me for making the trip to get health care a little less scary for them.

And yes, I’ve gone with a friend when she needed support. For her it was a hard decision. It’s one she has very mixed feelings about, but she’s still sure she made the decision that was right for her. And I stood with her and let her work through that. I didn’t tell her what to do, and I would have supported her whatever she choose.

This isn’t a game where you get saves and I get abortions. My only interest is in those women being able to access healthcare without fear.

Pat C:

One lie that gets me is the, “Ask them to show you the ultrasound. They don’t want you to know the truth,” The clinic will not only show it to you if you ask, they will print a photo for you if you want.

AND

Since I transport many clients home after their procedure, this is not true. All of them say the staff are kind, compassionate and keep asking them if they are in pain. They will stop the procedure if needed to comfort the patient and reapply a local if necessary.

Huxley M:

One: some clinic clients are nervous. They’re typically nervous because they’re about to have a medical procedure, which is worth getting tense about. They’re also typically nervous about the protesters out front.

Two: some clients do have sad feelings, for a variety of reasons – the one I’ve encountered most (I’m also doing volunteer transport now, which means lots more talking than escorting does) is that they do want to talk, to have someone in their life know what’s up. “Hey, this is why I’ve seen stressed lately/seemed sick/etc.” And they don’t feel like they can, because they are afraid they will be treated by loved ones the way they are by the protesters. The overwhelming amount of negative emotion surrounding abortion is what they create – which is exactly what they intend.

Finally, just grabbing a client’s arm? I dunno about everybody, but we don’t even walk with clients without asking if they want us to. I have never initiated physical contact with a client, ever. Protesters make plenty of unsolicited and unwanted physical contact with clients, companions, and escorts, though. Guess they’re projecting?

Thanks guys, you rock!

When I share my tales of being on the sidewalk, I tend to get one out of two reactions (sometimes both):

1. Thank you! 

2. No way I can do that.

My response is usually:

1. You’re welcome

2. Well, it’s not for everyone.

Well, I think starting now my response for Number 2 is going to start being.

2. Yeah, you probably can.

No. Really.  I’m serious.

Yes, it’s not easy at first.  Yes, it’s not a cake walk if you get a clinic with a lot of unpleasant antis. But it’s not impossible for most people who say “No way”. You know how I know?

Because the skills required to do this thing are exactly the same skills you use to live in our world.

Can you go without popping off at the slightest inconvenience? Can you exist around people who disagree with you…and not constantly argue with them? Do you know when to shut up? Are you able to focus on someone in need? Do you know when is a good time to engage and when not engaging is a waste of your time?

Yes you can.  You do it already.  At work, online, at home, among friends. Seriously.

These same skills are used to escort. You don’t engage with the antis, you try to make patients feel safe, you talk shit about the antis to your other escorts, you listen for ridiculous arguments and post them on Twitter to laugh it up with your other pro-choice buddies, then your shift ends, you take off your vest and you flip off the group on your way out. Ta-da, done, see you next week!

(Insert disclaimer here about there being exceptions and that’s okay, and you’re not who I’m talking to. )

But the rest of you? You can do it.  Why not try it?

We’ll save a vest for you.

…published on a Sunday, because I’m sick, y’all.

First off, let’s go to the sidewalk with a round up of the past two weeks of clinic escorting. I didn’t get out because of sick this Saturday, so I shared the tweets of the ever awesome @LouClinicEscort , who gets a larger crowd anyways.

Next up, something crawled up my back and it’s name was “complaints about political correctness“.  This had me so going that I was tweeting in bed about this shit.

Enjoy!

This may or may not be a regular thing, but people seem to really like it when I combine my escorting tweets into an easy to read format.

We don’t get the crowds as other clinics, but our regulars are persistent, annoying, the worst, and occasionally, hilarious.

So, here’s two Saturdays combined. Enjoy!

 

So our merry band of morons have been more pushy considering the property line they are not supposed to cross.  Because Screw the Rules, I have Jesus.

“Good morning.  That is the first and last time you will hear that from me, so savor it.  Here we go:

Rule one: If you are an adult, I don’t like you.  I don’t care if you say that you “love me”; that’s creepy and you don’t know me.  I don’t care if your God loves me.  As a matter of fact, if you feel the need to tell me that, like you have the express line to God, I don’t like you even more.

Rule one point one: If you’re a kid and you’re here, I feel sorry for you.  There are better ways to spend a Saturday morning than being dragged to a clinic to wander with signs near pictures of medical waste.  Like the park near the clinic.

Rule two: Become familiar with the property line.  Tell your newbies.  Ignorance is no longer an excuse.  I WILL call the cops on your ass.

Rule three: We don’t have to talk to you.  For any reason.

Rule four: We can talk to anyone we want.  Deal.

Rule five: Don’t fucking LIE to us.  If you’re a protester, we’ll figure it the fuck out. We talk to each other.  We talk to our security guy.  The fucking ninth commandment?  Your rules. Not mine.

Rule Six: You are creepy, young or old.  If you bothered to think about it for five seconds, you would get that.  Complete strangers don’t owe you information about their bodies or medical condition.  Not that you would care.  I heard a woman was on the floor bawling after you dismissed her telling you her fetus’ lungs weren’t working.  You are shit.  Actually, let me make that a rule:

Rule Seven: You are shit.  The very thing you are doing is shitty and you are shit.  This is why you get the disdain you whine about.  But hey, that’s what gets you people going, I know.  You don’t give a fuck about babies, you just wanna get decent people pissed off so you can go home and wank (figuratively and/or literally) about how persecuted you are. We know your game.

…waking up at fuck you o’clock on a Saturday morning.

…making sure I have money for a parking meter and/or a coffee before I can even leave the house

…driving (for any reason)

…leaning on my cane for two to four to five hours at a time, using up my precious spoons (some days I return and go straight to bed for hours)

…listen to some brain spurting bullshit from pro-lifers who seem to throw any shit at patients in the hope that it will stick, and behave in ways that a normal person would consider rude, invasive and shitty (but to them are perfectly justified), and NOT BE ABLE TO CHALLENGE THEM BACK.

 

I would love to not have to do any of this week after week after week.  I would love for no escorts to have to bust their asses and risk their bodies and minds dealing with sometimes large hordes of protestors and fake-ass “counselors”. Hell, I would love to get into a big ol’ screaming match with these twits once in a while.

 

But I can’t.  Because as long as they are out there, spreading lies and guilt like so much rancid garbage, as long as patients need a calm, smiling and respectful presence helping them inside the clinics, I and my fellow volunteer escorts will be there.

 

Oh, also, #FuckOperationRescue and similar organizations for making my job necessary.

 

The usual merry band of morons were in the first two hours of an about 4 hour shift. Random McWhiteLady asked me what was the difference between a coat hanger (like the one of my Surly) and a currette. Then she told me, and every other escort there, about the woman in Italy who died after the second dose of the RU abortion pill. Not sure what that had to do with the price of beer in Canada, but okay.

She stopped mid lecture to run, with upside down umbrella and all, to a Muslim woman who walked out of the side entrance to give her pamphlet. Sigh. It was cold and rainy and windy as fuck out and I had my cane, expecting the weather to stiffen my joints. Insert insincere concerns about my health here.

Well, two hours go by, I train a medical student who came down from the clinic to help before the doctors came in, and all of a sudden, like 15 people showed up, wielding signs and changing the group from the usual Tom-fuckery to a clusterfuck of self-righteous posturing for the Lord.

There were children. Two in a double stroller (that they didn’t bother moving to give space to an elderly man leaving the dialysis clinic), some free range. A baby, well two, one was in the stroller, the other was carried around. Did I mention it was cold and windy and nasty outside? These children were freezing as they held signs and were marched around the block. Their parents and fellow prosters were just the worst. The first black protester I’ve seen (and dad to the stroller kids) stood next to the property line and delivered the most boring Bible study in the history of Bible studies. Big ass Bible in hand, monotone voice, asking questions at us, just ugh. I could have pulled a better sermon out of my ass. Creepy Grandpa picked up the little free range baby and practically shoved her into our faces, asking us if this was a child. One of my fellow escort and I had been distracting ourselves with just noise as Preacher Bore was talking, but the baby thing set her off.

“That child isn’t a prop!” she yelled, and CG kept talking, and the sharks starting getting closer, and we both yelled at him to mind the line.

To add a cherry to the shit sundae, the wife of Preacher Bore started in on us with the usual guilt trip BS, even calling back to the “not a prop” outburst. As they were FINALLY leave, she said they would pray for us (with TONS of stank all over that wish), and that may God have mercy on our souls. I asked for physical help to keep me from flipping her dumb ass off.

I managed to keep it until they were crossing the street a block away. And I waved. With one finger. One of the guys must have saw me because if the look he gave me out of his car as he passed could kill, I’d be a bloody smear on the pavement.

So yeah, stiff, in pain, tired, and pissy, I think naps were deserved all around.