Everything is wrong with me
Wednesday, August 04, 2004
full panic mode! full panic mode!
I'm sitting here in my office, one day before my luxurious Bahamian vacation, and I am in full-blown panic attack mode. Why? Let us count the ways:

1) An abnormal, overpowering fear of flying. I've flown on planes probably fifty times in my life. Never did I have a fear of flying until last November, after a wedding I went to in the Boston area (I wrote about this wedding yesterday). The next morning, my roommate Brian and I took a shuttle flight back from Boston to NYC. We were both viciously hungover - I had cranberry juice caked in the corners of my mouth, and was literally shaking from the booze as the vodka danced in my veins. Brian still had the suit he wore to the wedding on, and looked like a homeless man, albeit a homeless man who had just got beaten up by a gang of Puerto Ricans with those little bats they give away at baseball games.

Anyway, this shuttle flight, though less than an hour, was the most turbulent flight I'd ever been on in my life. This plane was dipping and diving the whole time, as I sat motionless in my seat thinking about all the sex I didn't have, making a mental note of things to do if I survived ("Poop in every bathroom at work", "Eat whole pumpkin pie in one sitting"), and sweating, sweating, sweating. From that flight on, I've been terrified of flying.

2) An abnormal, overpowering fear of hurricanes. It's hurricane season. There was just Hurricane Alex, who brushed the Carolina coast but now is headed out to sea. It's supposed to rain EVERY day we are in the Bahamas. While talking to my buddy Steve (who's also going on the trip) about this, he said, "Sure it is. It's hurricane season, and there are potential hurricanes developing both north and south of the island."

Holy fucking crap. I'm not sure whether or not this is even true, but it doesn't really matter. It is my destiny to die an unglorious and embarrassing death. Is there any worse way to go than getting hit in the head by an errant lawn chair in a hurricane because you ran out to the pool in the eye of the storm because you realized you left your pina colada out there? I think not (also, I have will have no pants on, but not sure why).

3) An abnormal, overpowering fear of sharks. I wrote about this before. Ever since seeing Jaws as a kid, I've been frightened beyond belief of sharks and fish in general and have avoided the ocean at all costs. The last time I was in the ocean was the summer between freshman and sophomore years in college. I went to a buddy's house in Connecticut. We were riding around on this boat, and everyone was having a good time as I sat pale, quivering and sobbing in the middle of the boat with three life jackets on. While heading back to his house, we decided to dock the boat about ten yards from shore, and swim right up to the back of his place. Amidst the jeers of "Don't be a pussy!", I whipped off the life jackets (I'm actually an ok swimmer) and dove in the water with everyone else to swim back to the house.

Halfway to the house, I felt something brush against my leg. I don't think I've ever moved or done anything as quickly as I made it back to shore after that (save for sex). Seriously, I was like Mark Spitz, gayness and all (wait, or is Greg Louganis the gay one? Are they both gay? Better question: who gives a shit?).

I don't like the ocean, but I know while on this trip, this scenario is going to happen:

[Friends are all in the ocean, Jason sits on the beach alone wearing two t-shirts and a pair of jeans]

John: "Jay, why don't you come into the ocean?"
Jason: "No thanks, I don't really like the ocean."
Shane: "Oh, come on! We're all having fun! Look at us!"
Kristie: "Yeah Jas! Come on in!"
Jason: [watching everyone enjoying themselves] "Oh, alright!"
Everyone: "Yay!"

[Jason takes off one of his shirts and his jeans, and steps into the ocean in his boxers and an old Led Zeppelin t-shirt]

Jason: "You know, this is kind of enjoyable!"
Bill: "Told you it was fun!"
Lindsay: "Why don't you come out a little farther?"
Jason: "Ok!"

[Jason moves a little further out, but as he does so he notices how suddenly his friends' faces become frozen and pale]

Kristie: "Oh my god Jason! Don't move! I think there's a shark behind you!"
Jason: [pooping self] "What?!?"
Shane: "There is a shark! Let's get outta here!"

[Everyone screams and leaves the water. Jason poops himself again, this time much more than the first, as he sees the shark swimming up to him. The shark attacks, and Jason begins to fight him off. It is a good fight, as Jason is really doing a number on the shark's genitals. Just when he thinks he's going to beat the shark, he notices a giant Portuguese Man-of-War jellyfish coming full-speed for his genitals.]

Jason: "Owww! Cockass!"

[Jason screams as the jellyfish shocks his right testicle, which, fortunately for him, is his crappy one. While still fighting the shark, Jason bites the jellyfish, and it screams and backs away. Then, he turns his attention away from the jellyfish and back to the shark, and with a series of low-blows fights him off.]

Shane [on the shore]: "I can't believe it! He just fought off a shark! And a Portuguese Man-of-War!"
Brian: "It's incredible!"
Tina: "God, he's even fatter than I thought. He hides it pretty well."

[As Jason makes it back to shore and begins walking toward his friends, his arms raised in triumph, happier than he's ever been, out of nowhere a Werewolf appears and bites Jason in the neck, killing him instantly, and flees. Jason's lifeless body drops to the beach like a 250 pound sack of horse shit. Then the Werewolf comes back, kicks Jason's body, lights a cigarettes, notices the beachgoers staring at him, and flees again.]

Kristie: "Well, he had a good run."
Bill: "Yeah."
[five seconds of silence]
Lindsay: "Race you guys back to the Tiki Bar!"
Ed: "You're on!"


So I'm off to the Bahamas, if I can make it through this work day and tonight. Expect a synopsis on Tuesday.

And for your weekend, remember: don't drink and drive.

Well, unless you have no other way of getting home.

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