If you feel lonely, take an ambulance in Guam

It was ten o'clock at night; Chinese Sad Associate had been ill the whole day but had declared herself significantly better in time for dinner. We had gone to a hotel buffet only to have her throw up all the food later in the toilets. The scared hotel management called for an ambulance and ten minutes later we found ourselves sitting in the poorly-lit, dingy emergency room of Guam Hospital, surrounded by big, pregnant, dark-skinned women.

There was a sign under the small television on the ceiling of the waiting room that said 'Do not touch the TV. Ask Security First.'
"What's that sign for?" I asked my friend K. She looked at it and shrugged. Then we both looked behind us through the window. We could see in the opposite room two security guards were intently watching pro-wrestlers strangle each other on the television. I shook my head and said, "Great. The security guards are watching TV from there."
"So we can't change the channels without asking them first! Oh my God."
"What sort of security guards are these? They get paid to watch TV all day?"
We were chuckling over this in our corner when the nurse came over to tell us that Chinese Sad Associate had a message for her. It was from a David.

"Who's David?" I asked Chinese Sad Associate. She looked at me blankly. She had just woken up from her nap on the plastic chair and her face was pale from the food poisoning.
"I don't know," she said, "I don't know anyone on this island."
K. watched as Chinese Sad Associate and I went to the phone booth to call David.
"Hello? This is H., you left a message for me to call you," Chinese Sad Associate said. "Who is this?"
I saw her eyes grow wider as she registered the response from David.
"Who is he?" I whispered. She covered her mouth and giggled, but she managed to say to me, "The ambulance driver."
"Holy cow." I slapped my forehead. David had taken down Chinese Sad Associate's details and of course, had managed to get her name. I shook my head in disbelief while Chinese Sad Associate tried in the politest way possible to tell David that she was not interested in his offer of 'island hospitality'. K. was questioning me with her eyes from the other side of the room.
"It's the frigging ambulance driver," I said to her, and watched as she collapsed into shocked laughter. I left Chinese Sad Associate who was still trying to extricate herself from the phone call to walk back to my seat next to K.
"What the hell is he doing calling her?" K. asked.
"I don't know, but he's offering her 'island hospitality'," I said.
"Oh my God. How tactless is that? I mean, she's sick," she said.
Chinese Sad Associate finally managed to hang up, and K. and I both dissolved into giggles as we watched her march over to our side of the room, her expression of thunder showing all the disgust she felt at dealing with David.
"What the f*ck was that?" she said, "I mean, what the f*ck was that? You don't call someone who is sick in the emergency room."
"Hey, he was offering you island hospitality," I said, grinning.
"Maybe they don't get many single women around here," K. said, grinning.

We saved the number. If you want to go out with a Chamorro ambulance driver, let me know.