Gasp If You Want To Be Heard

(There has been a major blizzard. Though the walkways in the zoo have been partially ploughed, the snow is still rough, and the benches are totally snowed under. I misjudge my stamina, and find myself gasping for breath and in a fair amount of pain when I finally struggle through the snow into the closest zoo exhibit. I collapse on the nearest chair and concentrate on breathing.)

Volunteer: “There aren’t any polar bears out today.”

Me: *gasp* “Darn!” *gasp*

Volunteer: “But you can see the seals!”

Me: *gasp* “I doubt I can—” *gasp* “—walk that far.”*gasp*.

Volunteer: “Enjoy the exhibit!”

Me: “I’ll try to.” *gasp*. “Um, ma’am?” *gasp*

Volunteer: “Yes?”

Me: “I doubt I can safely make it back to the Administration Building.” *gasp* “Could you get someone to come over—” *gasp* “—with a cart or something?” *gasp* “I’ll gladly pay for it.”

Volunteer: “We don’t have anything like that.”

Me: “Not any motorized vehicle in—” *gasp*“—the entire zoo?”

Volunteer: “Nope!”

Me: “Okay, would you do me—” *gasp* “—a favor? Please call the—” *gasp* “—Admin Building and ask them to—” *gasp* “—watch for me. If I haven’t checked in with them in—” *gasp* “—45 minutes, would they please send someone back this—” *gasp* “—way to see what happened to me?”

(Then the volunteer picked up her walkie-talkie and phoned security to send a guy in a golf cart to drive me back.)