Post #19: Waiting Room Roulette

I have never been in a waiting room like this-the seating arrangement encourages actual INTERACTION. Horrors!

Today I went to my (non-Crohn's) doctor for an appointment, and as usual, I was early. I know I don't have to actually arrive 15 minutes early, but like the good little lab rat that I am my ass was in the waiting room 20 minutes ahead of time. My doctor was running late (of course) and so I was sitting there for about an hour.

Waiting in a waiting room requires offense, defense, and a proven strategy honed over the course of dozens of doctor's visits. The first thing you need to consider is seating choice. Occasionally, there will only be one or two open seats, but in general you have your pick, and thus need to quickly scan the assembled crowd for some very specific qualities that will
determine your decision. This is a learned skill.

The goal of successful waiting room seating is to corner the least populated area and hold onto your turf by making direct eye contact and/or spreading out your belongings onto the adjoining seat (just one seat, not two-I'm only a partial asshole). A waiting room is a goldmine of filth and illness, and while you can't hermetically seal yourself into some awesome futuristic waiting pod (that would be AWESOME) you can take some steps to prevent the most aggressive transmission of germs.

First you need to visually divide the waiters into three categories: visibly sick, people with kids, and chaperones. Sitting next to a chaperone is a good option. These chaperones are easy to spot, as they are equipped with an e-reader, giant bag of knitting, or sudoku book. They might even be sleeping. You do not sleep in a waiting room if you are waiting for an actual appointment. While you can't take a complete medical history, the chaperone is probably less ill than that person they are accompanying to the doctor-thus, acceptable seatmate material.

It goes without saying that someone who is visibly sick should be avoided. Why put yourself directly in the path of all of those pathogens? Today, there was a girl who actually put on one of the face masks the hospital so optimistically puts in the waiting room, in one of those freestanding stations next to what I am convinced is the least sanitary hand sanitizer ever. Her skin had that moist sheen that indicates a fever, and she was coughing up a lung behind her yellow mask, covering her mouth each time out of habit. Obviously, I did not share her couch. The visibly sick are often not so conscientious: Rizzo (I give nicknames names to all of the patients, since I am the only person under 50 without a smart phone so I can't pass the time playing fruit ninja), a short woman in a leather jacket and sneer, had a lusty chest cold and kept wiping her nose on the back of her hand and then running her fingers through her hair, wiping and touching, spreading her business onto the seat, clipboard, pen, and general surrounding area. AVOID.

People with kids: also not optimum seat mates. Kids are germ factories, and often curious little germ factories with boundary issues. AVOID.

After you have broadly grouped the waiters, you can get down to specifics:
-Waiters with casts, slings, and other orthopedic gear are generally good bets.
-People who make eye contact and smile (at everyone) are bored and looking to commiserate. AVOID.
-People who are eating (in a waiting room!) gross me out. AVOID. Same goes for hard candy suckers and loud throat clearers.
-People who are loud cell phone talkers in shared public spaces should be neutered. Just saying.
-Couples are a safer bet than singles, as there is likely one chaperon to provide a seating buffer.
-Sitting by a fish tank/water fountain/TV/magazine rack is never the best idea, because it attracts visitors who may linger and pollute the area.
-Try to choose a chair instead of a couch, as you will be less likely to have to share your space.

Today I commandeered a nice corner chair and scoped out the competition. Rizzo and Typhoid were across the room. To my left: Home Hair Color (that dark purple you get when you try to dye your hair black at home) tapping away on her iPhone (kate spade cover!). To my right: Volvo SUV, a suburban chaperone mom in danskos and a shirt I saw last week at Nordstrom Rack. Later, we were joined by the Professor (mid 50's, absentminded, fancy German walking shoes and a black backpack with a "I am the 99%" tag). Observing the proper etiquette, there were at least two chairs between each of us.

Waiting rooms also have racial, socioeconomic, and generational dividing lines, but that is a subject for another post. There is also a kind of perverse popularity contest, as you can watch people decide to sit by you or far away-as much as you've been scanning and plotting, other people are assessing your potential sickness and seatmate suitability. Like attracts like; we tend to feel safer near people who look like us (and by extension, presumably share a certain kind of lifestyle). That is why I was in one corner with Home Hair Color, Volvo SUV, and The Professor, while Rizzo, Dawson's Creek (a college age couple), and Spike (a guy with a lot of facial piercings and a camo skull t-shirt and hat) sat in the seating area opposite.

It's not a particularly pleasant activity, this waiting, but it helps to exert some control over the situation by trying to avoid the people most likely to infect or talk to you. Making up names and back stories at least makes the time more enjoyable. I'm completely convinced that if I sat in a waiting room for a week, I could write a credible soap opera that would garner decent daytime ratings. In the end, though, everyone is just waiting to be called, the great equalizer of the whole equation.