Luka is tending to Colin, who had crashed into a bus and broken his steering wheel with his chest, which didn’t react too well to this little flirtation with hard objects. Susan rushes up, wondering what they’re still doing inside; Luka explains that, for some reason, Colin can’t be in the ambulance. “I got you a chopper,” Susan says. They team up to wheel him into the elevator, but Colin slowly starts to freak out at the idea of flying. “It’s a short trip,” Susan says curtly, a rudeness which I suppose fits the scenario but doesn’t match her character’s own apparent fear of air travel. Nice use of history there, guys. “No, you don’t understand, I really don’t like to fly!” shouts Colin. Luka doesn’t care. “It’s not a plane, it’s an air-rescue helicopter,” Susan offers, but this provides no balm to his soul – Colin’s up in arms because “a copter can’t glide! Take me back! I have a bad feeling!”

The hospital lights go off. Because in an emergency, it’s best to keep things as ominously dark as possible to facilitate tripping.

Upstairs, Dr. Robert “Rocket” Romano is wheeling a patient of his own toward the elevator. It’s a nebbishy old man named Monty. Shirley shouts out that Saint Rafe’s will only take one critical patient, even though Romano’s trying to send four. “I’ve never been in a Catholic hospital,” sighs Monty. “Well, you’ll like the nuns. Nice calves,” Romano says. And that’s why I love him. Romano then gets on the phone with a poor shlub at Saint Rafe’s and, always one to strong-arm his way toward getting the upper hand, yells, “Tell [your chief of staff] that Robert Romano is sending out four criticals, all of whom I expect to be treated like his own mother, without the inappropriate touching!” Um. More lights go off. Shirley shouts for him to hurry up, so Romano slams down the phone with his very authoritative left hand -- such a good hand, a useful hand -- and runs into the elevator.