We arrived at the surgical center, next door to the hospital, almost a half-hour earlier than my appointed time. I mean, when you can't eat or drink anything, what else is there to do in the morning? We showered and dressed, then checked out of the motel (leaving our pillows, a mistake which greatly distressed the wife on the drive home), and had nothing else to do but go check in, and wait.

But we needed a paper. A newspaper. For the crossword, if nothing else. When I asked the nice gal at the desk where the nearest machine was, she quickly pointed out they had a complimentary copy in the waiting area.

I looked out into the large open room. Almost full of people, already at eight o'clock in the morning. We'd be lucky to find two seats together, much less garner up pieces of the only paper in the room.

"There's a machine in the hospital", the other gal advised. And as soon as she said it, I remembered exactly where it was. In the main lobby, in a nice oak cabinet designed to match the hospital decor. Used it several times during the son's and wife's surgeries.

So, off we went, across the parking lot.

Paper easily retrieved, we were headed back out the looong, empty hallway (an engineering compromise in some remodeling project, no doubt) to the hospital's front doors when the wife suddenly mutters "Heh. Parking lot."

Asked for an explanation, she laughingly explained the sign she saw down the hall, under an arrow pointing to the front doors:

"Access to Curbside Ground Vehicle Transportation"

Which is apparently hospitalese for "This Way to Parking Lot".