By Popular Demand

Just to clarify, when I say that my life is average, I mean that in a way that I am not running a brothel, nor am I an astronaut. I am very blessed and very fortunate with all that I have been given in my life, so by no means did I mean to sound ungrateful or like a sob story. I simply meant that with the typical life that I live, there is no way I should be involved in so many shenanigans. When discussing this at work this morning, my boss made a request that I do some flash backing and tell one of my previous funny stories. Without further ado, I shall tell about the time I almost choked to death on an egg sandwich.

I was on a semester break from college, so I was staying at home, spending quality time with my family. I was about to make the thirty minute drive to work (25 if there are no cops lurking about) and was running late (shocker!). Therefore, I had no time to sit at the table and enjoy my egg sandwich that my mom so graciously made for me. Wrapping up my wonderful slightly runny on the inside egg, delicious ketchup, surrounded by two slices of wheat toast, I trotted out the door planning on eating my all time fave breakfast while cruising to work not knowing that that tasty egg sandwich almost was the death of me.

I get about half a mile down the road and put the first bite in my mouth. The next thing I know, I cannot breathe. I pull over, panic running through my body. My first bite went down the wrong way and was lodged in my throat! I couldn't cough. I couldn't breathe. I dialed my home telephone number and began blaring the horn of my car, hoping my parents would understand my plea for help and would come looking for me.

Fear overtaking my body, I jump out of the car and begin to throw myself against the side of my yellow ford escape in a vain attempt to give myself the Heimlich. Beginning to feel faint and weak, I slump down the side of my vehicle, falling in and out of consicouness. I began thinking, "This is it. This is how I am going to die, on the side of the road, choking on a damn egg sandwich." In one last attempt, I shove my fingers down my throat and finally throw up. Outside of a slight headache from oxygen deprivation, I was okay (obviously).

When I recanted my near death experience to my parents, I made them swear to me that if I were ever to die in such a humilating manner, that they would make up some lie to spare my pride, or I would come back and haunt the crap out of them. They made me promise that I would never eat an egg sandwhich in the car again.