Chen tells Weaver she's a magnet for "the weird ones" today. Weaver is in the process of asking what's up with the patient she's about to see when she slips on a puddle of water on the floor of his exam room. Weaver quickly recovers her balance and Chen scolds, "Mr. Kamitovik, what did I tell you?" She strides over to Mr. Kamitovik, who's shivering and wet; Chen tells Weaver she caught him soaking his blanket in the sink. Mr. Kamitovik (hereafter Mr. K., because I want to finish this recap before Christmas) apologizes through chattering teeth, clutching said blanket around his shoulders. Weaver asks him why it's wet, and Mr. K. explains, "I was afraid I was going to burn. I have a family history of spontaneous human combustion....I've got to stay wet or I'm going to go up like a Roman candle." He delivers this speech to Weaver and then glances over at Chen, on his other side, and screams, "Get that oxygen away from me unless you want this whole place to explode!" Chen soothingly says that she'll turn the oxygen off in the hall if he'll just calm down. Mr. K. glances around the room, terrified, and Weaver says, "Dr. Chen, let's get Mr. Kamitovik [gr!] started on a flame-retardant saline, and get somebody down here from the special burn unit." Chen all but taps the side of her nose, like, this guy is insane, not stupid. Dr. Dave tears into the room, too fast, slides on the puddle of water and totally biffs, landing flat on his face. Now. Normally I am not one to laugh at a pratfall. But HA HA! When it happens to Dr. Dave, it's funny to me. And it looks like he might have really hurt himself! HA HA HAAA! Anyway, he tells Weaver there's a multi-trauma coming in, resulting from a causeway collapsing at the sci-fi convention -- I'm guessing it's the one the Spock manqué had planned to attend. Chen helps Dr. Dave up. I rewind the biffing ten or twelve more times, and giggle each time. See, he yells, first, and then he falls, and you can almost see his feet above his head, and -- oh, ALL RIGHT. Moving on.
Various costumed conventioneers arrive in ambulances. Midline tenderness blah triage blah scalp lac blah dislocated shoulder blah blah blah sci-fishcakes. Pam gives Elizabeth the bullet on the patient I think we're supposed to care about: "Twenty-three-year-old man, crushed pelvis. Fell at least twenty feet." Crushed Pelvis starts moaning feebly for "Danny"; Elizabeth asks who Danny is, and he says he's CP's brother, and was standing next to him. Pam says she thinks Morales has Danny. CP makes the moment more poignant (what would the verb form of that be? "poigns"?) by adding that poor Danny didn't even want to go to the sci-fi convention: "I made him." Boy, between things on his pelvis and things on his conscience, this really isn't Danny's brother's day. Dr. Dave appears alongside Danny's bed, quietly telling Elizabeth that Danny's suffered "a bad tib fib." "Please don't let him die," CP begs. Elizabeth tries to hook me up by asking CP's name, but he crashes before he can answer. Crushed Pelvis he was when we met, and Crushed Pelvis shall he remain. Pam bags him.