Our topics of discussion this week have been pretty heavy…death, dying, abuse, and difficult relationships. All this angst can be a bit of a downer if you focus on it all the time, so I’m going to tell you a true story…one of the funniest I have ever heard.

A friend of mine teaches OSHA-style safety courses all over the country. He speaks to maintenance, engineering, and automotive workers on various safety topics.

He was sent on an assignment to Saint Elizabeth’s Hospital for the Criminally Insane. He and his class met in a conference room. He notice a soft chime at 4:00 and everyone stood up, thanked him, and left for the day. He was a little puzzled but brushed it off and counted it as an opportunity to catch up on a little paperwork.

As he answered e-mails, filed reports, and made phone calls, he heard some noises but didn’t really pay attention. After an hour or so, he gathered his items and headed out for the hotel. He turned right outside the conference room door, just as he had several times that day, and ran right smack dab into a locked security gate. He was somewhat puzzled, but turned to go out the other way and sure enough…there was another locked security gate. Now he’s growing concerned and walks back into the conference room thinking he can at least get out through a window. Hellooooo? This is a hospital for the criminally insane, remember? Every window had bars on them.

“Hmmmm…how did I miss that?!”

He put his things down, rummaged around for his phone and called the administration office. He heard the connection, then the first ring. Simultaneously, he heard a phone ringing in a nearby office. After several rings…nothing. They’d gone home. He tried the assistant administrator and hears a second phone ringing farther down the hall with the same results. Everyone was gone.

He began to panic. I mean, here he was, trapped in Saint Elizabeth’s Hospital for the Criminally Insane! He remembered his home office was in Denver, two hours behind him, so staff would still be there. He dialed and checked the closets while waiting for them to pick up.

“Thank you for calling “ACME”. This is Carol. How can I help you?”

“Carol! Oh, thank goodness you’re there! This is “Bob”! You have to help me…I’ve been locked in Saint Elizabeth’s Hospital for the Criminally Insane and I can’t get out!”

Silence.

“Hello? “Carol”? Are you there?”

“Ummm, yes…I am. Listen, can you repeat that?”

“Yes! I need your help! I’ve been locked in the Saint Elizabeth’s Hospital for the Criminally Insane and I can get out! No one answers the phone!”

Silence. Then muffled laughter as those gathered around the speaker phone in the home office grasp the full concept here.

“Oh, nice…speaker phone. Well, now that you’ve had your fun, can you do something and get me some help here? It’s getting dark!”

“Sure, Bob…don’t go anywhere. Just stay right where you are.”

“Cute. Just hurry, will ya?”

You know that game called ‘Telephone’? The one where you tell someone something and by the time it gets through 4 or 5 people it doesn’t resemble the original message whatsoever? Well, by the time the message got to the burly security guards, they heard “Unauthorized intruder in Conference Room B. Proceed with caution.” The guards burst in, guns flashing, and my friend is ordered down on the floor, searched for weapons, then dragged outside to the parking lot. After a lot of hubbub and a little bladder indiscretion, they finally accepted who “Bob” said he was and sent him on his way.

Bob hopped in his large commercial equipment van and took off on the nearest freeway. It wasn’t two minutes when he had flashing lights behind him and he got pulled over. Obviously, “Bob” was distraught and perhaps not thinking too clearly.

“What’s the problem, Officer?”

“Sir, do you realize you can’t drive this type of vehicle on this road?”

“Excuse me?”

“This commercial van…it’s not allowed owed on a parkway. It’s against the law.”

“Awwww, man…you have GOT to be kidding me. What a crazy night! I just got let out of Saint Elizabeth’s Hospital for the Criminally Insane and now this?”

The police officer’s eyes got big as saucers, he put his hand on his weapon, and backed up about three feet.

“Sir, put your hands on the steering wheel where I can see them!”

“What? Oh! Oh, my gosh…no! You’ve got it all…”

“Sir, put your hands where I can see them!”

Hands were thrust through the window. Back up arrived. Phone calls were made. Finally the cop with the gun got a radio message, listened, nodded. He called over to my friend.

“You’re not any chance “Bob White”, are you?”

“Yes, yes! That’s me!”

“And you really got yourself locked up in Saint Elizabeth’s Hospital for the Criminally Insane?”

“Bob” detected a bit of unveiled sarcasm.

“Yes. That was me.”

“Alright, fine…get out of here!”

And he did. And no one forgot. Ever. It’s been years and people he is introduced to say, “Oh, hey! Are you that guy?” And they all laugh and laugh and take pictures. Poor “Bob”.