Meanwhile, the Rinpoche's surgery is interrupted by a call from Thor in the ER. Over the speakerphone, he informs Kellerman that his friend, Neil Ryder, is there to see him. Kellerman sounds surprised, and wracks his brain for a guy named Ryder. He finally says there's a guy in his building named Ryder and asks what he's got. Never too sick for scorn, Thor answers, "Pain in the neck. Mine." He mutters, "Guy's a Y.O.D.A." Ah, acronyms. Next to "crapper," they're the medical profession's favorite part of the language. One of the doctorlings asks what a Y.O.D.A. is. "Yuppie on drugs or alcohol," Kellerman answers. Thor says he's going to move the guy along, but Kellerman tells him to keep him there for half an hour. Thor hangs up, and the surgical team commiserates with Kellerman over the Y.O.D.A. on his doorstep. Kellerman can't believe the guy showed up at the hospital. "It's that kind of day," Que Paso says ominously. Well, I wonder if something bad is going to come of the Y.O.D.A.'s appearance? Kellerman tells everyone to get the Rinpoche off bypass, which, as we've learned by now, means they're almost finished. Well, except for that geyser of blood shooting out of the Rinpoche's chest, that is. Everyone scrambles to clamp the leak as blood sprays around the room. You know, if they hadn't let us know fifty times that the surgery was cursed from the start, that might have freaked me out.
After commercials, we find the surgical team frantically trying to find the source of the leak. Finally, Kellerman discovers that "the connector's cracked." Maybe one of the fifty anvils that have been raining down in the OR fell on it. "This is not supposed to happen!" Kellerman snorts in disbelief. Where has he been for the last thirteen minutes? They manage to get the bleeding under control.
Downstairs, paramedics rush in with the newest contender for this year's Darwin Award. He's been scraped off the pavement following a motorcycle accident, and the genius wasn't wearing a helmet. Dalgety and Thor get in on the action, checking for vitals and giving chest compressions and whatever else it is that trauma specialists do. Dalgety asks if Thor is okay. Thor sweats and grits, "Week-old Kung Pao chicken." Dalgety orders Thor to stop the chest compressions, and checks the monitor. The guy flatlines. Dalgety calls for epi and atrophine. Thor announces the guy's pupils are fixed and dilated. If the flatlining monitor isn't enough to make it obvious, the announcement that the guy's skull is in pieces seems to be. Dalgety reluctantly shakes his head. "Looks like Elvis has left the building," Thor says. Dalgety calls the time of death. A young doctor asks about trying something else. "Check the pupils. At best, you bring back...a turrrnip," Dalgety says. He tells the nurse to let him know when the guy's wife gets there. Thor, raising a Maalox cocktail, asks, "Anyone care to argue against a mandatory helmet law?" Apparently, no one does.