An Introduction on the Day I Almost Died

I pretend to write. Or rather, I say I want to write but rarely do. Also, I can't write. I don't understand grammatical rules. I use too many commas. I over use semi-colons to compound my compound sentences; you will find that out rather soon. Ideally, my career would exist in a medium that allowed me to use some sort of creativity, but as you'll see below, it most clearly does not. While I rather enjoy my life, I could see how an outsider might find it either boring and/or (I also overuse and/or) dull.

For instance, I'm a college graduate and live with my parents. Let it be clear, I have social skills and a well above average salary for my age, yet I live in my parent's basement. I originally planned to move in with them and buy a house three months later. That plan, for several reasons of which I will not elaborate, did not pan out. Here we are, two weeks away from the one year anniversary of the day I planned to move in for three months, and I'm still here, sexy as ever.

I also have a job that people don't go out of there way to hear stories about. I supervise a group of warehouse workers who unload trucks. Not only do I work in such a noble and important profession (you can't shop without warehouses!), I actually get excited about it. When my team moves 300 more boxes than I thought they could, I leave thinking I made a difference. Somewhere, someone is enjoying a can of Pringles that without my team's ability to overperform, they wouldn't have been able to purchase. Difference made. Through conversation, I motivated someone to move a pallet of boxes from point A (warehouse) to point B (consumer). ((Being a pretentious, soulless business man, I have to dumb everything down for you liberal hippies out there)) For information's sake, I'll also point out that I work the weekend. The weekend-night shift, the starting ground for America's brightest.

Now that you have a vague idea of just how awesome I am, let me explain to you why this particular blog was started on this particular day. At about 11:03 am today, I almost died. In fact, one could argue at this particular time, I am in the best health of anyone ever who almost died 12.5 hours ago. As you will find out when reading my near death experience, and any other experiences that I may choose to write about, it was not my fault-nothing really ever is.

My ladyfriend lives roughly two hours away from me. I went to visit her yesterday and then had to return home to My Town for various business meetings of which my attendance was of the utmost importance. When leaving her apartment this morning, the weather did not exist. It's true; there was no cold, no warmth, no wind, essentially nothing. About one half hour into the trip, my mother called to warn me that I should not drive home today as the weather in My Town was bad and worsening by the minute. Not believing her, and assuming she was being a typical wuss being scared of a random April snowstorm, I told her no and shouldered on. Storm or no, I did not have any clean clothes to wear at My Girlfriend's; I certainly wasn't going to buy some because of a storm. I bought two shirts last week and that's more than enough for this quarter.

Tangent over, the weather started to worsen as I headed north. Generally I drive fast, some say too fast. Those people are wrong, but not wanting to crash and prove wrong people right, I slowed down to below the speed limit. Granted, it was only five miles below the speed limit, but I was still getting passed by more cars than I passed. To me, this justified my speed and thought I'd make the unfortunately assassinated President Palmer proud by being a safe driver. The roads didn't seem bad, and truth be told, I felt safe. So safe that I thought nothing of passing a gas tanker. I was well-entrenched into Oliver Twist (unabridged-the only way to audiobook) on my iPod and started passing the truck.

I passed the tanker. We drove under an overpass as I reached the cab. The cab, out of nowhere jerked to the left. To avoid being side-swiped, I pulled my wheel to the left. Then, the world slowed and suddenly listening to Fagan the Jew hunt down poor Oliver took on less importance. I shot to the left, then started spinning back to the right. By the time I reached the interstate, the tanker had moved forward enough that I did not hit the cargo load of gas. I found this to be fortunate. What I found unfortunate was I now faced the traffic that by all accounts should be behind me. I remember thinking, "Dammit, I don't want to be late for my meeting." Then, "I hope I don't spin into that cement embankment." I turned the wheel, which proved fruitless. Still spinning, I completed a 360 degree turn but still had no traction and/or wits about me. I reached down to pause my iPod, because God forbid I miss the climax of Dickens' finest novel.

iPod paused, I flew off the road straight into the ditch, thankfully avoiding the cement embankment. At the time, I felt more inconvenienced than anything. Pissed off at the gas tanker, I took a sip of my delicious diet soda beverage and surveyed the situation. I was stuck in the mud in a ditch in the middle of Iowa on the way to a meeting to help start a year long project to help move boxes from the aforementioned Point A to the also aforementioned Point B. I sat there for about five minutes, unpaused my iPod, and started making calls. I called Mother about eight times to tell her she created a self-fulfilling prophecy. As if she could sense a call of smart-assery, she didn't answer her cell or home phone. Instead of merely calling people, I thought it wise to find a way out of the ditch. I tried to do the reverse-then-drive combination they use in the movies. I felt as though progress was being made until I realized my windshield wipers no longer wiped off snow but the mud I continued to encase my auto beneath. I opened the door to find myself entrenched in six inches of the same mud that now covered my car. I gave up and called the tow company.

I don't have a lot to say about the towing, as it was rather uneventful, save for three moments that further my belief society will most likely be wiped out within ten years.

One, a State Trooper arrives at the same time my tow truck does. He walks to my window, and we have the following exchange:

"You end up in the ditch?"
"Yep."
"How'd it happen."
"I spun out, did a 360, and ended up here."
"What lane were you in?"
"The left."
"Yep, probably don't want a pass people on a day like this. You could end up in the ditch."

Truth be told, I have no idea if State Trooper is the type of sarcastic genius I can appreciate, or the type of dumb ass I cannot.

Two, the tow-truck driver tapped on my window and said, "Did you know you were a TV star?" He pointed at the overpass whose cement embankments almost destroyed my Altima and on top perched a man with a camcorder. Now, I can understand people not stopping in windy, snowy conditions in this cell phone era to offer assistance. I cannot understand why someone would stop and videotape an accident in windy, snowy conditions without offering some God damned assistance. The man wore a blue coat and had a beard. If anyone knows anyone who meets that description, please destroy his camera and HIS FACE.

Three, and probably the worst of all, it didn't occur to me I should be thankful that I'm alive. Instead, I worried about being late for my meeting and also wondered what would happen if the small pee I had a brewin' in my penie, became a large pee of which I could not control. I think there is something wrong with this. Someone shouldn't almost die and immediately think about their job and piss, synonymous as they may be.

I'm not melodramatic by nature, but having over half a day to think about it, the fact remains, I lucked out a great deal today. I count several ways that today could have turned out differently. First, I could have smashed into a cement embankment on either side. Ouch. Second, I could have collided head on with the traffic coming from where I just came. Third, I could have turned and gone under the back of the gas tanker and been crushed by the semi-wheels. Fourth, and by far the most awesome, I could have smashed into the gas tanker itself, immediately lit a match (for the same reason I paused my iPod), and exploded my car, the tanker, and the bridge that contained the bearded, blue-coated dickhead filming it all.

After being towed out of the ditch, I drove home. I was shook up, so I stopped and bought some pizza and another diet soda beverage. The rest of the ride home was a bit of a blur, and as soon as I got home, I immediately showered and went to my meeting. Thankfully, I was only ten minutes late! Us executives, such dedication.

Which brings me to my point. I on and off again like my job. Right now I sort of do. Tomorrow I probably won't. I'm by no means whining; again, I really like my life. But work isn't life, and at work, I keep chasing every carrot dangled in front of me. I keep jumping through the hoops that "all young executives have to go through." While fraternity initiations involving keggers and shot contests may be over, corporate initiations of late nights, low per hour wages (if one does the math, which one seldom has time to do), and lots of murky, political waters to wade through are as legal and valued as ever. And why shouldn't they be? The young and hungry can be pushed around and be promoted as soon as they discover wherein lies the rub. I'm not bitter. I get the system. I need money. Money buys houses, TVs, and food. Since I'm young and don't have any money, but have desire to buy houses, TVs, and food, I can't afford to not put way too many hours into a job that two years ago I could have cared less about.

But I'm alive, and that's good. Today's incident did not spark some uncontrollable "seize the day" mentality within me. I know full well there are going to be days that I just don't want to do anything. I can already feel tomorrow being one of them. However, it did make me realize that if I went out in a fireball of glory today, I would leave behind a burnt corpse who always said he wanted to be a writer/entertainer, but for really no reason other than fear and loafing, never was. Now I have this blog, and that's a start.