Alex was the curiosity of the EMT class. Of latin descent, he has tan skin with thick black hair and gorgeous brown eyes. It’s clear Alex works out and for good reason.
What made Alex the curiosity of the class was that we never knew what he would be wearing. The first night of class, it was about a quadrillion degrees outside and he wore soccer shorts and a t-shirt; typical college kid attire. “Nice,” I thought, “that look is working for him… and for me.” The next few classes he wore sweats, fairly ordinary. A couple of weeks in, however he came to class wearing flannel lounge pants and a hoody. By this time, giving Alex a once over was a routine practice for Jafet and me. We looked at the pajama-ed spectacle and then we looked at each other in disbelief. (Why do people leave the house in their jammies?) (Why do grown bloggers use words like “jammies”?) (Anywho)
Most classes Alex came to school in work pants and a T-shirt emblazoned (you should pardon the pun) with his fire academy logo. “Now I know why he always looks so fit,” I thought.
One day Alex blew us all away arriving to class wearing black wool slacks, a purple dress shirt and coordinating tie. The clothes fit him nicely and flatter his physique. You have to know the whole class, including Mr. William’s, took note of how he was dressed!
Alex is very gung-ho! One night the guy who runs the concessions stand got mugged and hit over the head. We called 911, but Mr. Williams treated him while we waited for the responders. Alex was right there in the thick of it helping with the assessment… With no gloves on; the number one rule of EMT-ing.
In my opinion, Alex was one of the best in the class. Better than me in skill if not in knowledge.
He showed up at school Wednesday night, I guess to pick up his course completion certificate, but he stayed to help the students with skills. While Mr. William’s was giving lecture to the class, Alex and I were out in the hall inspecting the equipment we would be using and talking about our future plans. The subject of Ambulance Driver Licenses, and the cost of insurance to the operating companies came up. That’s when he said it.
“I’m 18, so I probably won’t be getting hired for a while.”
I almost dropped whatever I was holding as I stared at him, mouth agape. “I’m sorry,” I began, “did you just say you are 18 years old?” He confirmed it. “When is your birthday?” I couldn’t believe he could have been a “child” in class.
“March,” he answered. “I’ll be 19 next month. My plan is to be a medic (paramedic) by 21.”
“I can’t believe it,” I said a little too emphatically. “I knew you were young, but I had no idea you were this young!”
I kinda had a secret crush on him. I mean it’s not like I had
many any lacivious lustful thoughts or anything but damn!!
I’m a dirty old man…