These RACC commercials on Catalunya Ràdio have me captivated. They're people making bumpy trips. One went to Vietnam and rented a motorcycle, even though he couldn't drive, so he broke his leg (lucky RACC). Another was taking her son to Erasmus, but the car broke down (lucky RACC). There's also one who's going to Mexico, I'd say, and has a stomach ache. It wasn't diarrhea. It was appendicitis ("la pendis," as we used to say when we were kids), and they brought him home on a medically-equipped plane (lucky RACC).
I don't doubt the merits of the aforementioned company. When I see their helicopters flying overhead, I always think: "Look, they must be going to look for someone injured..." But what surprises me about the commercials is something that, honestly, I find hard to believe. I fully understand that the RACC helps you, comes to you, doesn't judge you, or even asks why you committed such a reckless act. What I find amazing is the good humor displayed by those affected. The mother who explains the transportation of her son to the airport and that her car broke down—didn't she receive stares, hysterical screams, exasperation? How can she tell it so cheerfully? Yes, yes, the son took the plane, but at what cost? The cost of high blood pressure.
The man with the leg and the motorcycle, the same. Didn't they scold him for being reckless? They told him: "Calm down, calm down, it can happen to anyone"? I can't believe it! Such nice families, who don't complain, don't reproach, don't grumble because they've missed out on a vacation. If I were sure of this reaction, I swear right here that I would become a member of RACC and rent a motorcycle in Vietnam hoping everyone would smile at me.
