A Near Hit? No.. near miss... wait - which?

I left the house early this morning, but not before re-entering the house twice for Chap Stick and an iPod. I need both in my pockets at all time. Ever sit at a bus stop with dry lips and nothing to do?

So I finally get on the road and take 54 south for about six minutes. It’s a straight shot.

This the part where a semi carrying three cars blows a tire. A hundred or so feet in front of me, it swerves into my lane. It drifts towards my shoulder, leans to a side, and then cuts quickly as to pass me on my left. The motions from a chaotically responding truck driver seem smooth and complete. It almost seems normal.

A few dozen feet behind me, after its passed, it swings back into my lane. There, it crashes.

Now there is a window of maybe a hundred or so feet and a period of eight seconds where it completely misses me. If I hadn’t gone back for both the Chap Stick and the iPod, or had completely ignored both, would I have been hit?

Actually, that’s not even an important question. I wouldn’t have. I’m a fatalist. I was meant to have the shit scared out of me, not die.

So what was my thought? That one brief moment before where an all encompassing thought fills you to the brim almost as to let your life flash before your eyes?

I thought I still had seasons One and Two of Millenium sitting on the top of my DVD shelf, still wrapped. And I really wanted to watch them.

I don’t think it really expands to some greater concept. It’s not like its some small scale version of a deep seeded need to finish all the things I never completed. It wasn’t me wishing for more time to do a few more things that I want.

Sure, minutes after it I was thinking about having never gotten married, visiting another continent, having kids, going skydiving, and seeing at least one of the great wonders of the world.

But not during. Then? I just wanted to watch seasons One and Two of Millennium. That’s where my priorities were.

Subtleties

If I step onto a bus, or say, into a hallway, I should be hit by according smells. Bus smells. Hallway smells. I want - nay, demand - the scent of weak-ass cleaning solution and human traffic. So when I'm struck with a throat closing scent, seemingly eminating from no natural spot on God's green earth, do you think I'm in my boundries to freak?

I’m sitting down. A girl comes on the bus. She smells like peaches. Not the real stuff mind you, that heavy artificial smell where it tickles your throat. I watch her move past the seats and people react – ‘Hey! I know that smell!’ But their faces don’t light up with that fun expression from when youtry and guess the Yankee candle scent. No, it’s more like they’re morbidly curious to try and figure out where the pine tree stick up scent is coming from that’s masking the dead rodent in the wall. It’s an intense, chunky smell.

How many products have you rubbed into your skin to obtain such a heavy scent? Is there a literal bathtub full of bath and body works products that you bathe in? It smells like Flava Flav walked into a room, only he replaced his trademark alarm clock with a giant canister of potpourri and lemon zest.

And it’s not just the women. Fuck the man who invented Axe body spray. Guys, it has got to be the cheapest way to say ‘I’m trying’. Four dollars on cologne is like buying a ten cent cigar. And men will layer that stuff on as heavy as my uncle does with bug repellent. Is there some deep seated inner fear that if every inch of them isn’t covered, it won’t work? Your plantar arch will be fine without the scent of Phoenix.

Call me old fashioned, but I want a hint of the scent. Perfumes and colognes are seductive, and meant for close quarters. You not supposed to entice someone three city blocks away. When you’re close enough, it should be a tease. I don’t want the fucking Titanic to knock me out of my seat with some honey tea and dewberries amalgamation. You know who uses a ton of perfumes?