21 years ago when I was about 14 months pregnant, my best friend took me to lunch at Red Lobster. I was in nursing school then, and had been certified in CPR. (This will be important to the story later)
We had just received our meals, and there was a table directly across from our booth with an elderly gentleman, his wife and his sister, Eve. I know her name was Eve because the wife kept up a running monologue aimed at Eve. "Eve, honey, don't you want some shrimp?" "Here, Eve, drink some of your water." "Eve, honey, do you want some salad now?" Later, I theorized that Eve was very, very rich and on furlough from the nursing home.
Melanie and I were starting our meals when suddenly, I noticed the man standing behind Eve's chair. Oh my God, he was doing the Heimlich on her.
I sat there, paralyzed, watching this scene unfurl. I wondered if I should step in, but A) in CPR they teach you if the 1st responder appears to know what they are doing, stay back until your help is requested, and B) my enormous girth would prevent me being able to reach around her to do the heimlich.
Shortly thereafter, she became unconscious. The man laid her out on the floor directly between their table and our booth. She's lying there and he's doing stomach thrusts or whatever, and then these 2 people come running up yelling, "We're paramedics!" (Whew. I was absolved from feeling as though I should step in. Even at that tender age, I knew that 2 paramedics trumped a nursing student.

)
So they stepped in, and started working on her. The manager of the restaurant came running out of the kitchen with, I kid you not, a WOODEN SPOON. I am not sure what he was intending to do, spank her until she coughed up the shrimp she was choking on?????? At any rate, soon enough, the Heimlich worked. And when I say it worked, I mean she spewed the entire contents of her stomach and intestines onto the floor next to me.
So, Melanie and I were just sitting there, looking back and forth from each other, to Eve, to our completely untouched food. Aside from the manager, we had not seen a single server or Red Lobster employee since just after Eve went down on the floor. We were visually searching the restaurant for someone who could maybe move us to another table or something.
Eve was lying flat on her back on the floor. Dear SIL shoved a glass of water at her and said, "Here, Honey, drink this." (Um, I am pretty sure Eve doesn't need to aspirate on the water just now, thank you.)
The ambulance that someone had mercifully called arrived minutes later. They brought the gurney up to the table and Dear, Dear SIL (who was probably the only person included in Eve's will) said, "Oh, you don't want to go to the hospital, do you, Eve?" (Um, I am pretty sure Eve needs to go to the hospital, if for no other reason than to be somewhere else when you pull out the arsenic)
After the ambulance left, I was still alternating between looking at my still untouched food, my friend and anywhere other than the mess on the floor, and we finally spied our waitress across the way. I waved cheerfully at her. She carefully stepped over the mess and asked if she could get us anything.
Yep, the check would be great. Oh, and could you just box up this food, cuz I REAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLY don't feel like eating anymore. Ever.
I couldn't believe they wouldn't at least offer to move us to another area, or clean up the mess on the floor or something.
I scanned the obituaries for several weeks afterward for old ladies named Eve, but she must have survived at least a month.
Holly