As I settled into a hard plastic chair in the Hospital Emergency Room, the atmosphere was a peculiar blend of tension and calm.

Nurses and Doctors moved gracefully through the space, their whispers guiding each other in a choreographed dance of efficiency, caring for their patients.

The rhythmic beeping of machines accompanied the quiet conversations, punctuated occasionally by quiet laughter among the doctors, nurses, paramedics, and police officers.

Nearby, a few drunks sprawled on stretchers, peacefully sleeping off their hangovers.

A concerned elderly couple huddled together, fingers entwined, their faces etched with worry as they awaited their turn.

The calm was disturbed when someone started a ruckus outside the door to the Emergency Room; it sounded like a drunk woman swearing profusely and threatening the people in the waiting room.

Two security guards intervened swiftly and entered the Emergency Room, holding a young boy who looked around eight years old.

The guards had special protective gloves; each held an arm and carried the boy to a back room; he wasn't yelling anymore.

One of the nurses calmly looked up from her computer and whispered to the attending doctor.

"I didn't see that coming."