Columnist Susan Snyder: Recounting a surgical strike

Friday, Jan. 17, 2003 | 9:18 a.m.

Susan Snyder's column appears Mondays, Tuesdays, Fridays and Sundays. Reach her at snyder@lasvegassun.com or (702) 259-4082.

The guy who sat alone on the eastbound shoulder of State Route 159 Tuesday morning was missing a shoe.

He also was missing a sock and any visible means of transportation -- car, bicycle, burro. Feet don't count when one of them is bare.

I was pedaling westbound, hoping it still was early enough to see a bobcat, golden eagle or coyote. Instead, I spotted the dark, hunched figure of a man whose day likely wasn't progressing as planned.

We made eye contact as I reached the Calico Basin turnoff. I stopped intending to offer help, but he was quicker.

"Hey! I need an ambulance!" he shouted.

I called 911 on my cell phone, and the dispatcher said Metro Police already were on the way. So I crossed the road to wait with the guy until help arrived. Everything about him was dark -- his jeans, his leather jacket, his curly hair, his disposition.

"Do you know how to set a femur?" he asked. "I'm a surgeon. My leg is broken. You have a business card? And who're the (expletive) snobs who live up there?"

No. Really? That's too bad. Yes. I don't know.

Where was that cop anyhow?

"I'm a surgeon from Washington state," he said. "My fees are lower than the (expletive) doctors down here. So they put me on a plane and flew me here."

Do we inquire as to who "they" are, or do we pedal away as fast as we can?

"Where the (expletive) am I anyway?" he said, without waiting for an answer. "So I got done with six hours of surgery yesterday and, you know, I wanted to blow off some steam."

Attention Washington wildlife officials: One of your loons is missing.

"I was playing high stakes blackjack at the Bellagio, and I guess I was winning too much. So these guys dragged me out here last night and broke my leg."

Too many mob movies are a bad thing. I about threw out a shoulder waving down the Bureau of Land Management ranger who drove past at that moment.

"You have any guns, knives, bazookas on you?" the ranger asked.

The guy reached inside his jacket, and I pedaled my chicken self right out of there. But curiosity got the better of me later.

"He said he was a cardiologist," Metro Police Public Information Officer Jose Montoya said later Tuesday.

"Then he said he's not really a cardiologist, but more of a freelance cardiologist, whatever that is," Montoya said. "Then he said he was in Desert Storm but couldn't talk about it because it was all top-secret."

The guy did have a Washington state driver's license, but his story of a major leg injury suffered a few fractures.

"The sergeant said he was walking around without a limp," Montoya said, adding that an ambulance took him to a hospital just to be sure.

When cornered for names and details of the previous night's escapade, the guy said a report was unnecessary, the officer said. He just wanted police to "know what kind of stuff was going on in their town."

They know, all right. Goofy tourists are the monsoons of the graveyard shift.

"It seems like they all come to town at the same time," Montoya said.

Never did find out what happened to his shoe.