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Vice Blog

NEW YORK - JESUS, TAKE THE WHEEL. FOR SPRING.


Since it's the first day of Spring, here's a jaunty little run-down of the ways in which I've almost died. Maybe while reading it, you can think of the ways in which YOU have almost died, and then we can have sort of a fun psychic interaction together. You know, for Spring.

High school death

I was barely allowed to leave the house in high school. If I did go anywhere after school hours, it was because I slipped out my bedroom window and ran for dear life. One such night, a friend and I were walking down the street like a couple of floozies, to go buy some chips and Boones Farm or something. We were walking along, having the grandest of times, when two guys in a brown Duster pull up along side of us as we're waiting for the crosswalk. I look over at the car and hear one of the guys whisper (like in a "I want to eat your toenails" sort of whisper), "Hey, come here."

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I can't remember exactly what I said in response, but it was something like "Eat turds." Then my friend and I started running through the playground of the elementary school that was next to where we had been standing. We were running like hell, and then I turned behind me and saw that one of the guys from the car was chasing us. (!!!!!!) At this one and only time in my life, I bridged the distance of here to there like God himself had picked me up under my armpits and placed me down a mile away. Not sure what those creeps wanted…actually I am. They wanted to rape me in the worst way.

College death

I got dumped and the night of the dumping, I decided to go to a rave. This was in Southern California where raves stayed a major deal for like 50 years. This particular rave went down on an Indian reservation up in the mountains somewhere, and I drove there with a male friend of mine, crying like a ninny the whole way. Once we got there, the thumping sounds of the shitty shit gabber music, mixed with the smell of 99 cent store incense being burned by the hippie ravers, made me feel even more depressed. I took a handful of the usual sorts of drugs found in plenty at raves, and waited to feel better. I didn't. Being the amazing person that I was at this time in my life, I ditched my friend (even though I was his ride) and decided to drive back home and search for my ex. The rest of this story takes place in three vivid flashes.

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Flash number 1: Me opening my eyes and smelling something burning, and finding that I had somehow driven into the middle of a strip of desert–and that the sound and smell that I was experiencing was my engine being revved by the weight of my unconscious foot, and my car digging further and further into the dirt that I had no idea I had driven towards.

Flash number 2: Me becoming aware of the fact that I was now driving on the highway, chain smoking and listening to the same Kate Bush song over and over, while sitting cross-legged in my seat. I swear to God…sitting cross-legged in my seat…driving…on the highway.

Flash number 3: Me waking up on the floor of the bathroom in my apartment, with a deep blue bruise along the whole right side of my face. But ALIVE!

Adult death

While working a second job at a bookstore in a suburb of Illinois, I discovered an egg-shaped lump in my stomach. I would stack books for five minutes, play with the lump for five minutes, so on and so forth. Having sort of a general lack of interest in the world, and the happenings of my own body at this time, I let the lump do its thing until it grew to the size of a mango. Not really, it still looked like an egg. Anyway, I dragged myself to the doctor, and they told me I had a hernia the size of Austin, Texas and that my guts were all spilling out.

HEY! HEY! Spring has sprung!

KELLY McCLURE