Dec 9 Thursday Night I Died
Two weeks ago I died, or at least another version of me did.
Scott, Schultz and I went out on a Christmas light adventure about 8pm, Thurs 12/9. We decided to swing by the old house to check it out. We pulled out on 7th street and got into the left turn lane at Redondo. Yes, my turn signal was on. Traffic was staggered just perfectly, so I couldn't comfortably make the turn. I waited for the light to turn yellow to turn.
As it turned yellow, two cars pulled out from driveways that were 20-30 ft away from intersection. The closest one cut off the one behind to make it to the left lane facing us and swerve to make the light. The car behind him, gunned it because she was pissed, and almost nailed us.
I had begun to turn left because all the traffic passed. I see these assholes burn rubber to the beat the light. I have dipshit number one at my right, so I can't swerve that way, and I have little Miss Thunder Cunt barreling right at me.
Total Kobiashi Maru.
No right answer.
So I froze and watched the white SUV bear down on us. I saw it happen in my head. I heard the shattered glass bouncing on the street, and that metallic crunch. It all ended with blood and bone and teeth.
All I could think was 'this is going to hurt bad.'
She yanked the car sideways and missed us by centimeters.
Scott screamed everything he could think of at the retreating SUV, I finished making the left turn, like nothing had happened. Scott kept screaming 'FUck! That fucking bitch. FUCKING almost killed us! WHat the fuck? What the fuck, man?? Goddamn, I hate this neighborhood! Fuck I'm glad we are gone."
I held out my right hand, my face grim as I drove. My hand was trembling hard.
Scott nodded. "I'm sick with adrenaline right now. At least you would have lived. Piff and I would've have been creamed. She was about to T-bone us."
I glanced over.
"Bullshit! She was going to hit us head-on. I would have been just as dead as you."
He shivered. "Well quit talking about it! You're creeping me out."
But when we got home, after I sat down on the bed to take off my shoes it hit me.
I died.
In some parallel universe, in some alternate timeline--that was it.
The Kia exploded in a hail of glass; Schultzie was thrown from the vehicle to his death; Scott's head was crushed on impact, covering me in his blood; the dashboard pulverized my legs into splinters; and the steering wheel was driven into my chest. I saw it. I heard it happen. I know it happened.
Every day, little confluences of reality sway and ripple through our lives, and sometimes they crash over us like Tsunamis. Ending things with fist-like finality.
Thursday night I died, as sure as I am sitting here writing this.
I woke up the next day, and laid in bed counting my blessings. My wonderful friends, and grand adventures. My feelings of love, warmth and comfort. So much more welcoming than the cold earth.
Every day feels like gravy.
Every day is a gift just to exist.
I'm trying to remember this every day.
I woke up. Fuck yeah.
Scott, Schultz and I went out on a Christmas light adventure about 8pm, Thurs 12/9. We decided to swing by the old house to check it out. We pulled out on 7th street and got into the left turn lane at Redondo. Yes, my turn signal was on. Traffic was staggered just perfectly, so I couldn't comfortably make the turn. I waited for the light to turn yellow to turn.
As it turned yellow, two cars pulled out from driveways that were 20-30 ft away from intersection. The closest one cut off the one behind to make it to the left lane facing us and swerve to make the light. The car behind him, gunned it because she was pissed, and almost nailed us.
I had begun to turn left because all the traffic passed. I see these assholes burn rubber to the beat the light. I have dipshit number one at my right, so I can't swerve that way, and I have little Miss Thunder Cunt barreling right at me.
Total Kobiashi Maru.
No right answer.
So I froze and watched the white SUV bear down on us. I saw it happen in my head. I heard the shattered glass bouncing on the street, and that metallic crunch. It all ended with blood and bone and teeth.
All I could think was 'this is going to hurt bad.'
She yanked the car sideways and missed us by centimeters.
I held out my right hand, my face grim as I drove. My hand was trembling hard.
Scott nodded. "I'm sick with adrenaline right now. At least you would have lived. Piff and I would've have been creamed. She was about to T-bone us."
I glanced over.
"Bullshit! She was going to hit us head-on. I would have been just as dead as you."
He shivered. "Well quit talking about it! You're creeping me out."
But when we got home, after I sat down on the bed to take off my shoes it hit me.
I died.
In some parallel universe, in some alternate timeline--that was it.
The Kia exploded in a hail of glass; Schultzie was thrown from the vehicle to his death; Scott's head was crushed on impact, covering me in his blood; the dashboard pulverized my legs into splinters; and the steering wheel was driven into my chest. I saw it. I heard it happen. I know it happened.
Every day, little confluences of reality sway and ripple through our lives, and sometimes they crash over us like Tsunamis. Ending things with fist-like finality.
Thursday night I died, as sure as I am sitting here writing this.
I woke up the next day, and laid in bed counting my blessings. My wonderful friends, and grand adventures. My feelings of love, warmth and comfort. So much more welcoming than the cold earth.
Every day feels like gravy.
Every day is a gift just to exist.
I'm trying to remember this every day.
I woke up. Fuck yeah.
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