It's entirely possible that I exaggerate my tales of near death experiences, but I'm pretty sure I come pretty close more often than not. I've had two very recent brushes with death in two very stupid ways.
I've been sick this past week - ever since coming back from my weekend San Diego road trip. I hadn't been on a vacation in ages. I really needed this trip for my sanity. It was brief, but squishing the sand in my toes and feeling the ocean water lick my feet was pure bliss. I don't know what caused it, but I came back from vacation with a cold. I probably got it at the fucking mall on the way out of San Diego. Nordstrom Rack was full of Asian tourists with Sars and Swine Flu I'm sure.
So I had to go to work on my new shift sick as a dog. A new shift and a new location. I can't miss work or they will write me up or fire me or keep me on probation or something, so I toughed it out. On Wednesday, I was still sick and headed to work - this was probably the peak of my illness... I was turning on to a busy street near my house - just waiting for my chance to go.
This prick douchefuck in a lifted pick-up truck behind me starts pumping on his horn. I look back and then look down the street again at the cars coming at me at 50mph - if I try to go, I'll surely get nailed or at least force someone to slam on their brakes. He blasts the horn a few more times and I see his face in my rear view mouthing the words "fucking come on, you fucking so and so" followed by more angry honking.
My migraine wasn't really digging it and my patience was short, so I threw my e-brake on and got out of my car to yell "Stop fucking honking at me you motherfucking dick," or something of that nature. Without missing a beat, this dude throws his door open and hangs over the top of it yelling at me "You wanna go, pussy?!?" I could see this kid was a 'roid popper idiot in his early 20s who probably woke up wanting to fight someone.
I considered getting into a fight, but quickly realized I'm a 35 year old guy in average (at best) shape suffering from a migraine and the flu and a bad back. I wasn't scared or anything, in fact I was irritated enough that I had to talk myself out of a fight using logic - the thing that got me back in the car was the thought that I'd be late for work... Still, he yelled at me to get the fuck back in my car and something about me being a pussy.
I turned on to the street and he followed after me and passed me with his huge truck. I didn't bother checking to see if he was making angry face and flipping me off. I assume he was. I wasn't feeling the adrenaline rush I should've felt from almost being in a fight. Although part of me had flashes of running up to his stupid truck door and karate kicking it which would've pinned him between his door and truck like a stupid idiot. Also thought about getting my "club" - that thing to secure the steering wheel - and smashing his head in with it. It would be the only thing I've ever used it for.
Those thoughts were satisfaction enough really... the realization is that he probably would've beat my ass. I'm not a fighter.
So on Thursday night, I was still sick... I worked every day this week sick and by Thursday I was too exhausted to go get any food.
A few nights ago, a friend brought over my favorite salsa in the world from a restaurant on the outskirts of town. We shared some straight out of the jar and then I put it in the fridge for later when I wasn't sick so I could enjoy it more.
Thursday night, I decided to just eat some chips and salsa/cheese dip for dinner... sounds healthy, no? So I grab the jar of salsa from the fridge and dump some of it into a large cup. Then I open a can of frito lay jalapeno cheese dip and dump some on top and then mix it into a cheesy spicy dip sauce. Mmmmm.
I sit down in front of the television and start dippin chips. It tastes sorta funky. Like lemon/lime or something. It doesn't taste right. I keep eating because this salsa is tough to obtain and I didn't want to waste it. I figured it just didn't "go" with the cheese sauce. I ate until I was out of chips. There was still some dip left. I considered putting it in the fridge to save it, but decided it wasn't good enough to save so I washed the rest down the drain.
The next day, I woke up feeling fine. No longer sick really. It was a miraculous recovery. I go to the fridge to grab a soda before work and notice the special salsa behind the milk on the top shelf... I wondered how I got 2 jars of special salsa because I know my friend only brought me one. I looked at the jar in the door (same size jar) and my heart sank...
It was a jar of salsa from Fresh and Easy that was nearly 2 years old. My ex and I bought it and opened it and hated it so we closed it and put it in the fridge... I guess I need to clear out my fridge because this shit was moldy and old and gross. I ate moldy old salsa from Fresh and Easy. It was probably the penicillin in it that cured me of my illness... my body rejected the rest of it though over the next day or two. Ugh... I feel violated. It was like I raped my own esophagus with horrific foodstuffs.
Anyway - I'm sure somewhere in there I nearly killed myself once or twice. I'm a resilient dude apparently. I'm a survivor. Come get some, zombie apocalypse.