|Congratulations- you just had a near-life experience!
||[May. 1st, 2008|04:08 am]
I should have died, and this is why...
|||||Fluke "atom bomb"||]|
Normally "falling asleep at the bars" means you've had one too many beers and someone has to take your keys.
My penultimate semester of college was a killer. I was working 40-45 hours a week and still taking twelve hours of combined engineering and accounting classes. Even on my off days, I couldn't sleep. It wasn't so much sleep, it was a brief respite before I heard that alarm and bolted up like a greyhound hearing that starting bell as the gate opens.
I have a 35-mile trip between home and college four days a week. It's October, it's getting cold, I haven't had a proper night's sleep in weeks, and I'm zombie-ass tired. I'm yelling Ministry, White Zombie, Metallica, whatever heavy metal medley comes to mind inside my helmet until my vocal cords are ragged and my voice sounds like I'm thirteen with twice the chronological experience and gargle with Drano and broken glass.
And the next thing I know, I'm opening my eyes, and me and 500lbs of motorcycle narrowly avoid becoming a Kawasandwich as I veer back out of the right lane and away from the ditch. Since my head droops down when I'm sleeping, it might be worth noting that one of the first things I saw was the speedo was coming down from 75mph when I woke up.
I still don't want to do anything to knock this out of the Top Three Things I Don't Want To Do Again.