First, I guess I should explain why we were at the hospital in the first place.

Saturday, Willow got sick enough to have to go to the ER, where it turned out that she had an extreme bladder/kidney infection and had to be admitted to the hospital and go on an antibiotic IV drip. Wendy stayed with her the entire time (From Saturday morning until Monday evening), and that meant that it was up to me and me alone to get Liam off to school Monday morning.

Our answering machine has been going bad for some time now, and we’ve been saying we had to replace it for several days. It’s gotten to the point where every message people leave us sounds like the teacher on Peanuts cartoon specials. (Whaa whaaa, whaaa wha, whaaa whaa whaaaa, wah.). Monday morning, Wendy called from the hospital to make sure I was awake and getting Liam ready for school (I wasn’t), and therefore I woke up to that weird, robotic drone on the answering machine.

I decided then and there that we had to replace the answering machine immediately.

So I took Liam to school and went to the hospital and sat with Willow while Wendy ran out to take care of a few things. Then, when Wendy got back, I ran to Wal-Mart to get a few things for Willow and to also pick up a new answering machine.

Alright, you know those things that they wrap around the boxes of new electronic devices to prevent shoplifting? Turns out, they’re called “spider-wraps.” If you don’t know what I’m talking about, reference the picture below:



The new answering machine / telephone I decided on was wrapped with one of those spider-wraps. Four legs wrapped around the box, with one flashing and pulsating “spider body” in the very front. So, I picked up the answering machine and finished my shopping and headed to the check-out lane.

The cashier scanned my items and was unsuccessful in her attempts to scan the answering machine and disarm the spider-wrap. I had expected her to remove the spider-wrap before I left the store, but she didn’t. Instead, she told me that she’d not been able to disarm it, and that when I got to the exit door, if the store alarm sounded, I should, and here I quote, “just run.”

The last thing I was going to do was bolt for the car while the Wal-Mart alarm went off, so when I got to the exit door and the alarm DID go off, I went back in and showed the Wal-Mart greeter the answering machine and the receipt. The greeter got her anti-shoplifting-disarming-device-thingy and scanned and scanned and scanned all around the answering machine, trying to disarm the spider-wrap. Nothing doing. It wouldn’t disarm. So this time, I actually asked her to just remove it. “Can’t we just take this security thing off?” I asked. “Oh, noooo,” she said. And at that, she called over the cashier, and they had some sort of secret-handshake type of conference and finally they were in agreement about what to do. “Just go ahead and leave,” they both said to me, “and when you get to the door, if the store alarm goes off again, just run.”

I still wasn’t happy with the idea of “running” while the Wal-Mart robot told everyone present that “YOU HAVE ACTIVATED THE WAL-MART SECURITY SYSTEM. PLEASE RETURN TO THE STORE TO HAVE YOUR ITEMS CHECKED.” So when the store alarm DID go off again, I turned around and called to the greeter “OK, I’m going to go ahead and leave with my answering machine, which I’ve just paid for and not stolen, JUST LIKE YOU TOLD ME TO DO, since I am NOT A SHOPLIFTER. Bye!” She nodded and waved me on.

I returned to the hospital and took in the items for Willow, and since I am an electronics geek, I took in the new answering machine, too… you know, so I could read the instruction book while I was hanging out in the hospital. Here follows a list of the things that happened:

1) I took the answering machine box out of the bag and saw that it was, of course, still wrapped in the spider-wrap. Wendy asked why they didn’t take the spider-wrap off at the store. I told her the whole story.

2) I realized that I was going to have to cut the spider-wrap off of the box in order to open the box. I have a small key-chain knife on my key-chain. I used it to try to cut through one of the strands of the spider-wrap. It was like trying to saw through a steel cable with a butter knife. I thought it was just made of plastic. Wrong. The thing actually had a small steel cable (really) inside of it.

3) Wendy suggested that I try the scissors she had in her purse. God only knows why women keep the things in their purses that they do, but she produced for me what she called “a pair of scissors,” but what I’d think of as either a medieval weapon or a device for pruning redwoods. In any event, it was more than strong enough to cut through the cable.

4) I cut through the cable.

5) At that EXACT MOMENT, Willow’s urologist entered the room behind me.

6) The spider-wrap, which I now realize is designed to produce a LOUD, SHRILL, REPETITIVE ALARM should anyone break the connection but cutting the cable, lost it’s friggin’ mind.

7) BEEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEEP! (Etc)

8) So there I stand holding an answering machine and the Wal-Mart anti-shoplifting device that I’ve just clearly tampered with, and Willow’s urologist looks at me and asks in his charming and reassuringly doctorly middle-eastern accent, “You are having a problem, then?” He doesn’t so much ask this as scream it overtop the horrible din of Item # 7 above.

9) I say “I didn’t steal it and bring it to the hospital! They wouldn’t take the thing off at the store! They told me to leave!”

10) The doctor says “Alright.” And then just waits for me to figure out what I’m going to do with the loud beeping monstrosity in my had. Finally I realize that I have to do something. It was at this point, as I remember it, that the Mission Impossible theme started playing in my head.

11) I’m paranoid about walking through the hospital with a clearly-tampered-with anti-shoplifting device, so I shove it in my pocket. This does nothing to remotely mute the sound of Item #7 above. I head for the elevator and push the down button.

12) People all over Willow’s floor are sticking their heads out of their rooms to see what the hell is going on. Is it a fire alarm? Is it a bomb? WTF??

13) The elevator door opens and I step onto the elevator with an elderly lady.

14) This is the conversation in the elevator on the way down to the lobby:
“What’s that noise?”
“It’s a… uh, it’s a thing in my pocket.”
“Is it a Gameboy?”
“No.”
“Is it alright?”
“No. It’s, uh… I didn’t steal it. I’m defective. I mean, it’s defective. I broke it so I could read about the answering machine. I’m sorry.”
(Facial expression changes from concern to mild panic)“Oh. I’m sorry.”

15) I bolt from the elevator and walk quickly down the hospital hall, and everyone I pass turns around to see where the godawful beeping is coming from. People are asking each other what is going on. Is it a fire alarm? Is something wrong? What IS THAT?

16) I burst out of the door by the hospital cafeteria and slam-dunk the spider-wrap into the wastebasket. As I turn to go back into the hospital, I notice people in the hospital parking lot, pausing to look in my direction and ponder what they are seeing.

I was really worried about all of this, what with today’s highly necessary hightened security measures. I don’t know what I would have done if a hospital security person had stopped me and asked me why I was beeping. I suppose I’d have started babbling about having not stolen the answering machine and how I cut the spider’s leg off just as the urologist walked in, so I had to go.

The moral of all of this is, if you buy an electronic device wrapped in a spider-wrap, MAKE SURE THEY REMOVE IT BEFORE YOU LEAVE THE STORE. Especially if you’re going to a hospital.