My Idiotic Brush with Death

Nonfiction by | July 6, 2008

No matter how brilliant I consider myself to be, I find my usually-intelligent existence punctuated by spots of utter idiocy.

I went to my aunt’s family’s restaurant in Great Neck, NY to bake my idiot-proof peaches and cream cake. It didn’t turn out so idiot proof because as any scientist would know, you need the same elements in an experiment to produce the same result, and Shoreline, Seattle (where I got this recipe) is not Great Neck, and a large restaurant kitchen scaled for mass production does not necessarily have everything a small home kitchen does.

So, anyway, the cake was baked. We left it to cool in the large walk-in refrigerator and I went back to reading my Terry Pratchett book till it was time to bring Joyce to her piano lesson.

It’s almost 3. Time to go, but where could Uncle Jobie be?

He’s not in the dining section… not in the kitchen… not in the loading area… could he be stuck in the walk-in fridge?

I check and he’s not there. Oh, well, better check on my cake while I’m here. Mmmmmm. Nice and cool. So I turn to go back out and I realize… I didn’t leave the door open, and the walk-in freezer door does not have a handle from the inside!

Okay, Ror, don’t panic. Breathe… I pull and pull but there’s nothing to pull on. Oooh, what’s this long wire? Emergency cord? I pull and nothing happens.

Breathe… I’m gonna be okay. I’ll just call out. I won’t scream, screaming is exaggerated (I recalled a cringeworthy moment when I got my thumb stuck in the middle of the whirly-go-round and ran to the neighbours melodramatically screaming “SAKLOLO! SAKLOLO!” Cringe…) so I decide to sing.

NOTE: Contrary to popular perception, I can actually hold a tune, provided that either (1) Nobody’s listening, or (2) Those listening are tone-deaf, drunk or too tired to complain.

So I sing my special piercing note (I’m quite proud of its painful crystal tone) really loudly for around 15 seconds, around 6 times. This is boring. Let’s change radio frequency…

Help! I need somebody! Help! Not just anybody!
Help! You know I need someone to HEEEEEEELP!

Surprisingly, no one’s rushing to my aid. Switch station again. If I sing Veggietales while dancing around, I’ll keep myself warm and entertained, and identify myself to any listener (what other 22-year old sings Veggietales?).

God is bigger than the boogie man,
He’s bigger than Godzilla or the monsters on TV…

I’m stuck in the FREEEEEzer! I’m stuck in the FREEEEEzer…

Still, no one. I don’t think I’m gonna die here. There’s lots of milk, my cake, some frozen pastries. Plus they must need some stuff from here sooner or later, right?

The battle is not ours, we look to God above,
for He will guide us safely through and guard us with His love…

I’m stuck in the FREEEEEzer! I’m stuck in the FREEEEEzer…

What if this thing’s airtight and soundproof? Drat.

He’s big but God’s the biggest, and when I think of Him, that’s when I figure; With His help little guys can do big things, too.

I’m stuck in the FREEEEEzer! I’m stuck in the FREEEEEzer…

And so I’m dancing and screaming and I turn around and see two big eyes peering at me from the other side of the door. Uncle Jobie!!! And he’s looking at his niece as if she were an alien (there’s my cover blown, again).

I got stuck and the door wouldn’t open! I wailed my adventures for ten minutes; and he so calmly pointed out that if I had tried pushing the door, I’d have gotten out quite easily. The door didn’t need a handle for that.

I only needed to PUSH.

If I died in that refrigerator, it wouldn’t have been from hypothermia, but from gross stupidity. What a way to go, Ror!

3 thoughts on “My Idiotic Brush with Death”

  1. goodness, ang daming errors and inconsistencies sa punctuation. the writing style’s horribly constipated rin. on a final note, please be careful with some of your “terms”, not only do they sound bad, they’re technically incorrect rin. 🙂

  2. Quite an experience you have there. In truth, most of our common sense fly out the window when we are faced with danger or when under extreme conditions (like facing imminent death )

    Anyway, I find your story descriptive, and how you described each of your “methods” in letting people know you in the fridge struck me as funny.

    Great work! Keep it up!

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