Pride: “I can drive my own damn self home!” Uh, no sir, no you can’t. We just cut a hole in your side and stuck a bunch of metal in it. You were this close to having a chest tube. You are full of morphine and versed and what’s that you say? The “ride” that was supposed to take you home is actually somebody who lives in Florida, and you were planning to drive yourself home all along? No, sir. No you are not.
Prejudice: I have this irrational thing about bald men where I can’t convince myself they’re actually people. I don’t mean balding dudes, I mean those guys with the shaved heads that gleam in the light. It’s much, much worse when they don’t have eyebrows. I see that, and I’m immediately transported to a strange mental place where I have just been entrusted with the care and medication of a robot that can feel pain, and is possibly guided by the brain of an alien.
No Darcy: Although, how crazy would it have been if Colin Firth had popped up in scrubs to do some surgery? That would have been the sexiest arthroscopy ever.