I was shanghaied on my way to class last night.
A man in a white coat pulled me from the hallway, demanded the answer all sort of personal questions and then took me to a room of abject torture. Occupants were placed in uncomfortable seats, grilled time and again as to their name, date of birth and social security numbers before the real torture began.
Two seats away from me a young man lay in a swoon; another man in a white coat rushed over and revived the prisoner but it was obvious that he was not the same person anymore as his voice slurred and his sentences were incoherent. He had given all he could but it was not enough...they turned on me.
I was confused. Blindly responding, once again, as to my name I was suddenly reminded of military hostages giving only name, rank and serial number and I was detirmined to stand firm and not spill my secrets to this hostile force. A needle was shoved in my arm and felt my determination to resist draining from me. Five of the longest minutes of my life passed before my torturer got what he had come for: a pint of my blood.
Chalk up one more pint for the American Red Cross.