Traumas

A draft of my digital story for computer class. I smoked the undergrads with my story. :) See if you can spot the exaggerations.


Dec. 7, 2009. The day I almost died. In hindsight, I should have seen it coming. There were so many bad omens – the fact that my boss almost forgot to book my airline tickets, a snowstorm the day of my departure, and the fact that my ride to the airport was named Heavy. But I was too excited to notice all these things.

I, along with my three coworkers – Paul, Dupree, and Cliff – was headed to a conference. In Vegas! It was a first for all of us. The anticipation had been building for weeks as we mentally planned out the sights … and the casinos and clubs … we’d be taking in during our down time.

Despite our 5 a.m. start time and the fact that we were crawling along at about 20 miles per hour, there was a positive atmosphere in the car. The music was turned up and smiles were spread all around. That is, until we hit a patch of black ice and I almost met my end along I-94.

As Heavy struggled to gain control of his SUV, we careened out of our lane in a sick kind of slow motion. The moment we began to skid, I braced for impact. I lost all feeling in my hands as I held onto the driver’s seat for dear life. I squeezed my eyes tight and didn’t open them again until I felt we were no longer moving. I’m not a religious person but I invoked the name of any higher power that my popped into my head. I just kept repeating this manta: Jesus, Shiva, Rama, Krishna, Buddha, Allah, Zeus, Jehovah ...
At the same time, I prayed that I would not have to go to the bathroom, a strong urge that had arisen before our car went off the road.

What seemed like a half hour journey probably amounted to just a few seconds. “Y’all okay?” Heavy’s girlfriend Tiffany called out. I opened my eyes. No scratches. I was shocked. I looked around. First, I glanced over at Cliff, who was seated next to me. He seemed to be in one piece. At least, he had the regular goofy look on his face. Then Paul and Dupree in the backseat. They looked fined too. Maybe just a little like they were going to be sick.

As we got out to assess the damage, some one pointed out that we just missed smashing into a signpost on our way down to side of the highway and into a ditch. Somehow, our car had averted an oncoming car, sped down a steep incline, and spun around, once again miraculously, to face the road. The car was a little worse for the wear but, no real damage was done. We had landed in waist high grass, but through sheer strength, the six of us – cold and scared, but feeling immortal – were able to push the car up onto the road.

Needless to say, we missed our flight. And of course, there wasn’t another for the next 10 hours. So we settled in at the airport bar, and toasted to a renewed outlook on life. Suddenly, these three guys I had barely known mere hours before were friends for life. Twelve hours and several rounds later, we were greeted by the bright lights of Vegas. The next three days were non-stop fun. New friends and new adventures. New sights and sounds. And a little bit of work of course. But in the back of my head, that whole week, I couldn’t help but be grateful for a second chance. And as I moved on from that job and embarked on each new chapter of my life, I recall that day as both one of the best and worst days of my life.