Again, it doesn’t feel necessary to pull the car over. After all, I’m the world’s greatest driving bartender right now. Nobody else in the world can compete. I start pouring my third cup of Jack Daniels. I still don’t want to get too drunk, so I make sure I only fill it up about a quarter of the way. When I look to see how I did, I feel the rumble strips from my car veering off the road. This startles me enough to put the bottle down and keep both hands on the wheel.
No damage done, but it’s a nice warning to be more careful. I see no reason to stop drinking, but it might be a good idea to pull over when I make my next drink. I might do that for the next one, but for now I take the Coke and start pouring while making sure my eyes are up and one hand is on the wheel.
Nobody believes me when I say it, but I believe my thinking and decision-making improves when I’m a little intoxicated. Sure, if I drink eight beers I become a bumbling idiot, but there’s a sweet spot in the range of two to four beers where I become a total genius (or so I think).
If I had three wishes now, the first would be to have things back to the way they were –- except for clowns. They can be gone forever.
Second, I would ask for a billion dollars, tax-free. I could have a lot of fun with that kind of money, and I’d never have to see my bosses again.
Finally, I’d wish to have this slight beer buzz feeling all of the time, without any negative side effects.
Actually, if it weren’t the genie from Aladdin I was working with, I’d wish for more wishes — you always have to try that loophole when given wishes. Then I’d wish for infinite life, striking good looks, and I may even throw in world peace if I’m feeling generous.
As I drink my third cup, I finally start feeling tipsy and slow down the drinking. This is my smart buzz at work.
All this alcohol turns my mind to Abby again. If she were here now I’d be putting on my geeky charm. Abby and I have been together a long time, but we’ve never had a problem in the lovemaking area. I think back to the last time we did it –- the weekend before all this happened. We went out and had a few drinks. When we got home, well, you can figure out the rest.
Since that option isn’t available to me I look for something else to focus my attention on. The only thing I can find is my cup of Jack and Coke, so I start drinking some more. Thinking about Abby makes me depressed. I would give anything to kiss her and hold her. Scratch my previous genie list; my first wish is to have her here by my side.
I’m a man, and like most men I never cry. I can count on one hand the total number of times I’ve cried in my entire life. Two close family members, a tragic death of a friend, and the death of the dog I grew up with had me crying in my pillow. I also cried the first time I watched Rudy, but let’s not count that one.
When I look over to the seat next to me — the empty seat that always has Abby in it during long trips — I can’t help but start crying. I’ve never felt this sad and lonely before. I miss her. Thinking of her and knowing I can’t see her makes me so frustrated I cry even more.
My eyes are filled with water and I start making weird crying noises — it’s obvious I’m not an experienced crier. I do my best to compose myself as I wipe the tears from my eyes. With this cry I’m letting out all the stress of the past few days. I’m one to keep everything bottled up inside, but I have to admit letting everything out feels good. I should do this more often.
I look over to the seat next to me, as if looking over would somehow make her magically appear. I can picture her looking at me with those beautiful eyes and a big smile on her face. The picture is so vivid it actually makes me smile.
I see her singing whatever song is on the radio and holding an imaginary microphone in her hand, which always makes me laugh.
Abby is the only girl I’ve ever known who can make me laugh on a daily basis. I guess her wonderful personality is why I married her.
That seat next to me brings back so many great memories. If only she were here, things would be so much easier.
When I look back up at the road, I don’t like what I see. I’ve veered off to the left and am headed down a steep hill.
I grab the steering wheel with both hands and slam on the breaks, but this just makes matters worse. The speed I’m going is too fast, and the hill is too steep.
My car starts flipping over.
Chapter 14
I open my eyes and realize I must have been knocked unconscious. I don’t know for sure how many times the car flipped over, but I remember feeling three of them. Now I’m upside-down and still strapped in my seat belt.
I touch the left side of my head and panic when I feel it’s covered in blood. Blood has always made me queasy and this is no exception.
I work to get myself out of the seat belt, which feels like I’m on a roller coaster. Both of my arms appear to be unbroken but it hurts when I move my left shoulder.
Fortunately, the roof was smashed down during the crash, so when I unbuckle myself I don’t have as far to fall. I make a pretty good thud when I hit the bottom and, despite bracing my fall, I land face first. The impact reveals how much pain my back and legs are in.
I reach for the door, which feels weird to open upside down. It seems stuck but then I realize it’s brushing across the ground and just requires more effort. I don’t have much strength but after a couple minutes I get the door open enough to crawl through.
Once I’m out I lay down on the grass, which is still wet from what must have been an earlier rain. The hill must have been slippery; otherwise I may have been able to regain control.
It’s unpleasant lying here. I turn over to see what kind of damage has been done to the car but feel a sharp pain in my side. I’ve never had a broken bone in my life so I don’t know what it feels like, but the intense pain makes me think I may have broken –- or at least cracked –- a rib. I lift up my shirt, afraid to see what it looks like. It’s bruised, but I can’t tell if it’s broken.
I attempt to stand up, but the pain is too great and brings me to my knees. I try to remain calm but it’s hard. My head is throbbing; the blood seems a good indicator of why. I try to get up again, and this time I’m able to do so. As long as I keep my torso straight the pain is bearable. Now that I get a good look at the car, I’m not pleased with what I see.
“DAMN IT!” I shout.
The sight of my demolished car hits me like a punch in the gut. What remains of the car is totaled. I turn to the hill I slid down and see there are chunks and pieces scattered everywhere. The remains of several bottles of water and other random items have escaped the car during the wreck. Even if I could somehow get the car right side up, it would be no use; Abby’s car will never be driven again.
I look inside the car and don’t think I could create a bigger mess of objects if I had a week. Clothes, water bottles, and cereal boxes are weaved together like the aftermath of a violent tornado.
Only moments ago, everything was fine and I was headed for Mobile. Now, I’m standing near the highway in the middle of nowhere with a car flipped upside-down and my remaining food and water supplies scarce and depleted.
What can I possibly do now? On the long list of things people in developed nations take for granted, 911 is one of them. If I could make one quick call to 911, an ambulance would be here to take me to the hospital. Sure, it might cost a small fortune, but at least I’d be safe.
Instead, I weigh my two options: First, I could rot here and die, pouting about how miserable my situation is. The second option – which isn’t much better – is to grab what I can and start making my way to the nearest town.
During normal circumstances the latter option is a no-brainer, but at this point I’m strongly considering lying here and dying. There’s a small chance – somewhere very near zero percent — that someone might come along to rescue me. I’m sure I have enough food and water to last me a few days until then.