Then We Break Down

As it has been explained in a previous post, I am more fond of the going-horribly-awry-misadventure stories than I am of the when-my-travel-plans-go-off-with-nary-a-hiccup stories…and did things go ever so gloriously awry this past weekend.  Luckily, my smoochie-poo is not prone to panic, or medics and/or a hospital might have been involved.

Without misadventures, this would be the story of the time I drove down the Oregon Coast just to get some cheese.  Instead, it’s the story of the time I passed out in the middle of a Beaverton intersection and then peed myself.  I’m going to go all kinds of link crazy so you can see the first time I documented this rather annoying occurrence and the last time I managed to wake up wondering where I was.  For this particular occasion, I got to add a whole other level of fucked-upedness.

To make what would have been an exaggerated story about fleeing from zombies a bit more concise so we can faster get to the bits about me losing control of my bodily functions, here is a bulleted version of the skinny:

• Drive to Cannon Beach to look for tentacle monsters and One-Eyed Willie’s treasure.
• Drive to Tillamook for cheese.  Don’t get abducted by aliens on the way.
• Head to Portland but not quite make it.

While driving east from the coast I decided I wasn’t feeling very well.  And by, “I wasn’t feeling very well”, I mean I was about to go all kinds of unconscious again.  I am fortunate enough to recognize when it’s about to happen, so instead of barreling down I-5 at–er–the posted speed limit, I smartly decided that I wasn’t going to risk murdering myself, my traveling companion, and whomever I may have plowed into, and pulled off at the next exit.

I was still thinking that I was going to be able to safely pull into a parking lot when I abruptly stopped thinking that, threw my car into park, and not quite made my hand to my hazards before everything went all fuzzy and dark.  It was a nice nap.  Then far, far off in the distance I heard someone yelling something.  It seemed like it was something important, so I tried to focus on it.  It was that I should breathe.  I thought about it for a second and realized that sounded like a great idea.  So my dark fuzziness started to lift and I realized that the yelling wasn’t in the distance but right next to my face…which was a little disconcerting, but probably not nearly as disconcerting as watching someone you more or less don’t hate pass out in front of you and then stop breathing.

As I finally figured out who was yelling at me and where I was, I also realized that I seemed to be soaked more than my temporary excessive sweating justified.  My body thought it would be a good idea to relieve itself during my time-out and gosh darn it, if that’s not the sexiest thing I’ve ever done, I don’t know what is.

Normally, I go back to feeling dandy after a few hours, but I seem to still be a bit on the lightheaded side.  I think it’s just brain parasites, but WebMD, says that the most likely thing that happened was a heart attack.  Well, me having a metal heart and all, we know that can’t be true.