It was a normal phone conversation, like the dozens of others I have each day. Protein Bran and I were discussing our plans to see The Rocky Horror Show that evening. I was telling him the different things the audience is supposed to yell at certain points during the performance. I could hear one of his mix CDs playing faintly in the background. He asked a question, sort of. He stopped in the middle of the sentence though, which...it was like he trailed off, but it wasn't, because he doesn't really do that. That's more like something I might do.
He trailed off or whatever, and it was only a second before I heard it, but it seems like it must have been longer. The space-time continuum makes its own rules when things like this happen. The space between when he stopped talking and when I heard the sound seems cavernous, but it happened so instantaneously. My mind is Zaprudering audio now, is what that means. I need therapy or something, but what else is new?
Anyway, the sound. I'm not quite sure how to describe it. It was a unique, descriptive, specific sound. That one little sound spoke volumes. I knew exactly what was going on, even though it's a sound I don't think I've ever heard before. I could sit here and try to type out the English equivalent in an attempt to better describe it, but I doubt I'd even come close. As it turns out, some things don't translate to English very well.
Trailing off. The sound. Me: "Protein?" I didn't have to ask. I knew. But I needed to at least hear his voice. Protein, calm as all hell: "I've just been in a major wreck at the four-way stop. I'm going to call the police now." Me: "Which four-way stop?" Protein: "Down by the new rec center." Me: "I'm coming down there. Call the cops."
I don't think I've ever run so fast. I booked it down six flights of stairs in record time and hit the pavement running. I got as far as the edge of campus before I realized I had no real idea where he was, so I ran upstairs to my English professor's office and frantically dialed. Protein assured me he was fine and that I should wait for him in the dorms.
When the tow truck dropped him off half an hour later, he was still eerily calm. The realization (on his part) would come a little later in the evening and necessitate a trip to Shoney's, "the best ghetto buffet in town." Some girl in a big honkin' SUV ran the four-way stop as he was making a right turn. The front driver's side is messed up. The air bag deployed. The windshield and dash are cracked and the driver's side door is jammed. He had to crawl out the passenger side. But other than being a little shaken up, he walked away unharmed. Small miracles, I guess.
Far be it from me to speculate about anything vehicular, but I get the impression that the difference of about a second either way could have made things a lot worse. Cars can be replaced, but kick-ass friends can't, and if you think I have mental problems now, just imagine what kind of trouble I'd have if he had been instantly knocked unconscious WITH ME STILL ON THE PHONE. And if we hadn't patched up that disagreement we'd had a little earlier in the day (totally my fault for being assy), I probably would've taken the guilt with me to my grave. I'm obsessed with the fact that this accident was so relatively painless, that everything and everyone are okay.
There are tons and tons of car accidents every single day, some more tragic than others. What is it that decides the difference? My faith has certainly been shaken in recent years, but I still believe in something. I'm just not sure what it is, and I don't know that it's any one thing, either. I look at the eternal battle for my soul like I look at a Chinese buffet: order a little of everything. There's probably a God, but does that mean that fate doesn't exist? And what about karma? I'm not going to get all "where do we go when we die" on you, but I thought I'd mention that I'm at least thinking about it. It's always there, just below the surface. I'm often told that my faith as represented on this site is ambiguous at best and I've always maintained that it's ambiguous because I haven't figured it out yet. I'm not so desperate for page views that I'll embark on a spiritual journey, at least not yet.
Maybe I should stop making everything about me and just be thankful that one of my best friends is alive and well, that whoever or whatever it is that decides what the day's cosmic events will be chose to give Protein another whack at life. Yeah, yeah, "nothing is too wonderful too be true," thank you Faraday. And as an added bonus, it reminded me of something else I sometimes forget: life is short. It's trite, but sometimes things are trite because they can't be repeated enough. If perhaps I'm totally wrong about faith and religion and this is all there is, I need to make the most of that.
It's okay to skip geography every now and then, especially with the weather as nice as it is. I'm going to eat dessert first tonight, because you never know if the next cookie will be your last. And I'm going to stop picking stupid fights with my friends, because they rock too much to die while I'm mad at them for no reason.
Y'all drive carefully, and remember: "No day but today."
Someone got here by searching for: i hate anderson cooper Listening to: Melissa Etheridge Watching: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
