Stairs and such

Yay for pictures!

Tonight's class saw us wheeling one another up and down the stairs with the stair chair.
As they strapped in and said a prayer, it took every ounce of self control to keep my mouth shut. Laughter bubbled inside me at their fearful expressions, and I stared intently at the wall until I could make a straight face again. How was it that no one ended up in a bloody mess on the floor?
Of course, I could ask that, from my seat on the landing, free from being chosen to ride the clanky contraption.

Ya know, if I didn't trust my classmates yet, tonight could've been a lot more nerve wracking. But I did. After 4 months of grabbing belt loops, tying tourniquets, and lamenting test scores together, this hardly seemed scary. Plus, I have complete confidence in my ability to survive tumbling down a set of stairs; sharp, crooked, or steep as they may be. How did I aquire such confidence?
Siblings.
We pushed/slid/rode countless staircases, never once fatally injuring ourself or others. Thus, I sat unperturbed, even peering casually over the side, as we rolled down the staircase.
.
Really, having a dysfunctionalI family is great practice for EMT school. It's crazy. It's weird. It's what we can't live without. Doesn't your family ooh and ahh over gangrene? Oh, just mine? Who knew?