Somebody called 911, and all the principals and witnesses waited … and waited … and waited. Maybe 20 minutes later a fire truck arrives, and emergency personnel question everybody about injuries. The girl has a whiplash to her neck, apparently mild, and she’s not concerned. They don’t treat her. Maybe 15 minutes after that, a police car arrives and the officer goes through all the regular routine — drivers licenses, registrations, insurance. All the while, the young woman with the whiplash is walking around filling out forms and looking bored.

Twenty minutes later another fire engine shows up, and not long after that a third. Some more emergency personnel ask questions about injuries and get the same answers: nothing seems too serious. By this time it’s been nearly two hours since the scrrreeeech-bam! Emergency Guy huddles with the girl and her dad (who was now on the scene), telling the man you never know about neck injuries, and you might want to take her to the hospital to get checked out. “If it was my daughter, I would,” he said, noting that the insurance of the party who was at fault will have to pay. “You could drive to the hospital yourself in your own car,” he added, “but you never know with these sorts of injuries. We could take her in the ambulance.”

Emergency Guy doesn’t mention that an ambulance ride of two miles will cost a fortune. Nor does he mention that it’s going to be at least another hour by this route before the woman actually gets to the hospital. The woman is standing there rubbing her neck as she listens to Emergency Guy make the pitch. Emergency Guy tells the dad that he can drive his daughter to the hospital himself, but then tries to scare him into not doing it. By this time, Emergency Guy has a grip on the back of the young woman’s neck, as if to stabilize it. It’s good theater. He keeps talking: “If it was my daughter, I know what I’d do,” etc. Finally, the dad opts for the ambulance. Other emergency guys pull out a stretcher with a rigid back-board and roll it up to the girl, who is just standing there with Emergency Guy’s hand clamped on her neck — an hour-and-a-half after the accident. She’s not convinced, but they get her to lie down on the board, and then strap her motionless. Maybe 15 minutes later, they roll the stretcher toward the ambulance.

I couldn’t help but wonder if I had just heard a sales pitch — a classic upsell. Was Emergency Guy trained to do this? I venture to guess that the ambulance ride would cost at least $1,500 (all profit), and the immobilizing of the victim probably that much again. The response itself would have been at taxpayer expense — we’re paying these guys anyway — so any revenue the crew can generate by victim request is to the good. Observing all this caused me to reflect: If this were my daughter, I would have wanted her to receive timely, quality care. And so I would certainly have driven her to the hospital myself at a cost of maybe $1.50. Counting all the time wasted waiting for the emergency crews to show up, I could have gotten her to an actual doctor two hours earlier and received a prescription: Take two aspirin and call back in the morning.