Quick, where are those little heart paddles? The ones George Clooney uses.

I almost made it. I was so close...
The entire weekend I spent in a classroom surrounded by Germans and came within two hours of leaving before they figured out I wasn't German also. So...close...

And I knew I was caught the second he walked in the door. It was the last segment of my spontaneous first aid course and no one, beyond the girl who sat next to me and ate lunch with me, knew I was American. We had moved through all the theory and anatomy and whatnot before we actually started practicing things.

Sure, I practiced CPR on those creepily realistic dolls that breathe and whatever, but that doesn't require much speaking or outwardly announcing that my German isn't up to par with the natives. Oh no, not until you make me practice making ambulance calls does it truly become evident that I don't know how to say, "The victom is experiencing severe abdominal pains and a shortness of breath."

The teacher looked over the class and chose three people to act out a scenario. One to be the victom, two for the emergency helpers. First time through, three people volunteered. Success!
I didn't realize there would be a second time through.

And no one would volunteer.

Now imagine that you're sitting in a room full of complete strangers for close to twelve hours. You're laughing at their jokes and completely comprehending what's going on. Now you've been called out and it's time to prove that, yes indeed you can speak, but only at the level of a grade schooler.

The teacher pointed to me and another girl to be the helpers. I just said, oh man. And he laughed and thanked me for audibly volunteering. The girl next to me, however, refused to come to the front with me. Oh, really? I didn't realize that was an option. I want to refuse, too.       Too late.

Thankfully my lunch partner came to my aid. So there we were, the victom on the ground in front of us and we're told we're at the gym and we hear yelling from the room over. What do we do?

Well, if you're me, you mumble, "Crap." and the class laughs at you. I sort of stumbled our way through the roll play with Steffie, the goddess she is, making the "emergency call to the police" while I poked at the kid in front of me, asking him in halting German if I could roll him over or give him a blanket to feel better. If laughter is the best medicine, then call me Patch Adams.

All in all not the weirdest experience of my life, until he passed out. So we check to see if he's breathing, and he is!

Until he whispers, "I'm supposed to stop breathing now." and we have to do CPR.

Greeeeaaat...

The teacher rolls out one of the dolls (thankfully) and I start pumping and breathing away, feeling like a dork, as we're told "to continue until the EMT arrives."
Yeah? And who is that going to be? Evidently no one. The teacher tossed us a defibulator and told us to sally up because the ambulance is stuck in traffic or some nonsense. Really? Imaginary traffic jam on highway You've Got to be Kidding Me.

Did you know the portable defibulators talk to you? Yeah, it's nice. So we followed the instructions in order to give our poor dolly a jolt of juice and it goes well enough. Honestly, it took a bit of effort not to whip my head around and scream, "It's not working. 15,000 voltz! CLEAR!"

I'm giving you all I've got, Captain.

And then we were finished, the entire class is laughing, and I sort of mockingly bow before we're released for a cigarette break. And by then the cat was not only out of the bag, but it was hefting its leg in the air to clean its belly.

And I would have made it, if it weren't for you pesky meddling kids!