Some People Don’t Know When To Give Up!

I almost died this weekend.

No, I did not go to a Britney Spears concert or a baseball game. I totaled my car when I hydroplaned into a retaining wall on a freeway after 45 seconds of rain. There was a moment when my life should have flashed before my eyes. Instead, all I could think was how I would be dead come September and I wouldn’t see my friend’s film debut at Toronto International Film Festival. And right before that, I was thinking how I would be that pendejo who crashed when it rained. But I did not die. In fact, I lived and thought some more really random thoughts. One of those random thoughts was: Have I been shot?

Damn Gang Activity

No, that would be the airbags deploying at speeds of up to 200 mph in my face.

And that caused my most painful physical injury: My split lip.

But what strikes me as odd, more so than my airbag, is the order in which I made phone calls directly after my accident.

1.) 911 (my Blackberry knew I was having difficulties and that normally useless function Emergency Call was just what the doctor ordered.

2.) The Plantation (That is what I have my office saved as in my Blackberry. I wanted to let my coworker know that I was going to be a tad bit late due to almost dying.)

3.) My Mother (Because she should know that I almost preceded her into that long dark night.)

4.) My Insurance Provider (Who My mother told my to call once I uttered I had been in an accident.)

Lately, I have been having a lot of discussions regarding priorities. Writing this list and reading the order in which I made phone calls makes me realize that maybe my priorities might be a little misplaced.

I called the plantation to say I would be late.

Before I called my mother. My mother that I talk to at least 4 times a day. You know, the woman who gave birth to me. The one who tolerates my mania. Work hasn’t really done anything other than give me ulcers the past six months and rowdy sweat stains in odd sections of my dress shirts. And forced me to become addicted to Coke.

Not the Lindsay Lohan drug, the highly addictive carbonated beverage.

I'm jonesing for it real bad!

And when I cannot get my hands on a Coke (I work in a place that is, disgustingly, Pepsi friendly) I will settle for a Mountain Dew or Dr. Pepper. I drink those bottles of sugary goodness by the gallons. In fact, I will consume at least 48 oz. of soda to get the same feeling as eating, say, a salad and a piece of meat.

I go to convenience stores and get super excited for the 52 ounce fountain drinks. That is the equivalent of dinner.

And spare me the talk of Diabetes, Liver Failure, Kidney Failure and Gallbladder problems. You need to talk to my employer. At least I’m not smoking or increasing my alcohol consumption ( Which we ALL know, couldn’t be any more than what I currently consume).

And after that little accident, I did make it to work. I worked 11 hours. I would have worked 14 had it not been for the pesky incident and lack of a vehicle. Whether it was the stress of work, my vehicular mishap, the additional 8000 grams of sugar I now consume or a pang of conscientiousness I can’t be too sure, but I do know that I did sit in a stairwell after sundown and I cried. I cried a lot. An ugly, painful, ethnic, I am being beat like a runaway slave tearfest.

You should know that shit is impossible because I had my tear ducts removed. (I wasn’t using them).

I have been way too lucky in my life to still be alive. Life is too short to cry because you feel bad about your poor decisions, Amigos. And that is why I was shedding tears in that nasty stairwell. Because I have made some pretty crappy decisions. No it was not about the car nor anything that superficial.

I refuse to let my legacy be intertwined with that of a plantation. As my friend Bibi tells me, I need to get my ass on the Underground Railroad.

She’s right you know. I’m too pretty to be working  in the cotton fields.

Hasta La Vista, Mis Amigos!

PS: I am fine, I am really lucky that I was not injured. If I had not been driving a beast of a vehicle, I would have been smashed to smithereens!

The front of the car should extend about a foot out past the hood!