In the hallways of the pediatric hospital where I’m working right now, you're supposed to step aside for Tug, an automated “train” that locomotes around the hospital carrying trays of food. This might seem endearing, but really it's meant quite seriously and unironically. No matter where you're going, goddamnit, you better step aside for that robot train when it comes choo-chooing through, full of passive aggressive cheer.
It's all part of the hospital hierarchy, which, without ever being spoken, is somehow universally understood. The hierarchy goes:
1. NPs and PAs
2. Nurses and support staff
3. Attendings and fellows
4. Tug the train
Walking home Saturday evening from the Pru, I passed several bums hanging out on Boylston Street. It struck me, not for the first time, how powerful self-segregation can be. Why do the bums all hang out on Boylston Street but almost never move over to Newbury Street, which is just one block over? It’s the same question I have struggled with in regard to squirrels. Why do the West End squirrels never stroll on over to Back Bay? I’m fairly certain that if they did, I’d see at least some squirrels walking down the street at least some of the time. But I have never seen a squirrel walking down the street. Again, it’s worth repeating: if this were really a thing, you’d think I would have seen it at least once.
You can be rejected from the Navy for having a varicocele.