My husband and I decided to jump with a parachute. Said is done. We took the course of youth jumping in Dosaaf. There were a lot of young people there. Have fun time. Before jumping, those who do not have a driver's license had to bring a certificate from a narcologist and a psychiatrist. I was unrighteous then. With the narcologist, everything went smoothly, but here is the psychiatrist... I go into the office, there is a young doctor. I didn't even have time to say for anything - where I need a certificate, the "attack" began. I am a doctor, I am a doctor.

B is Hi! How does he jump?

I am a good day! E... what?

How does he jump?

I am who?

W is he!

The fucking! What is it? Check of what? Who is? What to do? Am I crazy?

I am who he is?

I looked around. There is no one in the office except us.

A young man who was with you.

I am where?

It turned out that the doctor was with us on the courses of a young jump, and I, in love and absorbed by the parachute landing, did not remember her.

This is not the case with unhappy patients. You can really go crazy.