Getting robbed at gunpoint

Sometimes you think it's going to be a normal day. It's just going to be dinner with your boyfriend at a nice little restaurant, but then you find yourself being asked to give up your money at gunpoint.

That was exactly what happened on Wednesday, at a restaurant called Furenzu in Emeryville. We'd just finished our dinner, and were waiting for our check. Two men in parka jackets came in, one holding a gun, telling everyone to give up their money. They took what money they could, and left.

It was a good thing I didn't bring any money with me, but others weren't quite as lucky. I was afraid they'd take wallets with credit cards and IDs, but they didn't. Those would have been harder to replace. The story was online within a few hours. The funny thing about that is, ABC reported on the note that Dan and I wrote which went something like, "The food was excellent, but we picked the wrong night to come here. Love, two people that got robbed." Apparently, the robbery was the 8th of its kind: small upscale restaurants in typically low-crime neighborhoods in the East Bay.

The whole thing didn't quite bother me until I was trying to head to bed. I was really anxious, and sort of upset about the stupidity of the human race sometimes. I'm trying to find a way to restore my faith in humanity.

My life in six words or less

My friend Gemma asked me to do this....

Here are the rules:
1) Write your own six word story.
2) Post it on your blog [and include a visual illustration if you'd like].
3) Link to the person that tagged you in your post [me!], and to the original post if possible [so we can track it as it travels].
4) Tag at least five others with links.
5) Don't forget to leave a comment on the tagged blogs with an invitation to play.
6) Have fun!

Here are my answers, in an "end of life" sort of fashion:

"A life lived without what if's" or "She saw and did it all"

The great thing about having gone through a geriatric rotation is the great stories you get to hear. Alternatively, the sucky thing about geriatric rotation were the patients that didn't have great stories to tell.

One patient I had was a British man who'd fought in the first World War, was happily married until his wife's death, got to do a bunch of traveling, loved his work before his retirement, and raised a child that he was extremely proud of. He described his life to be rich, full, and accomplished.

Another patient wouldn't leave her dark room. She was in her bed most days, and not because of any physical ailment. I asked her if she could tell me a bit about her life. She said she had regrets, she wasn't happy with the way it turned out, and then she started to cry.

I'd rather be the first guy (minus the fighting in a war part). I'm having a great time working on living up to my "six word life story" in the mean time.