My life, for the most part, has been dominated by fear. A curious admission for one who has opted to live in an urban area occasionally known for it’s unpleasant episodes, lack of police protection and smoldering silent rage. A smarter person would live somewhere else, and while I confess I am not fearful of my home, I harbor several irrational fears. I’ve taken it upon myself to begin listing these fears and the spectacular reasoning behind them. The reasoning in itself is often ridiculous, a simmering stew of secondhand news stories mixed with Law and Order episode treatments,a dash of coddling by an over protective parent, and just a pinch of straight up crazy. It makes an uncomfortable stew and quite frankly I am amazed I can even get out of bed in the morning (only a few of the reasons being that I didn’t die of a heart attack while sleeping, nor was I murdered by a serial killer as of this typing). I became increasingly aware of the fear this summer when I began to notice that my lack of participation in normal or traditional human activities could be chalked up to an unsettling feeling that things could go horribly awry. The list is long and dotted with everything from camping, to sailing, to carnival rides – perhaps a necessary fear based on my history with Carnies.
I went sailing last month to address that fear. It was the first time I had been in a sailboat since college and there was really no reason to even possess any expectation as such, for my sailing class went fine. If I recall I got a 4.0. So what was so ominous about it now? Ah, let me count the reasons, the first being an untimely death at sea. There are so many ways – from overturned boat to freighter path, to simply being the man, in man overboard. Never mind all the horrible news articles of fluke things that have happened to people just out for an afternoon sail. One being the story I heard about the Mediterranean boaters out for a picnic cruise who all decided to swim post lunch, none having the upper body strength to pull themselves back onto the boat. All perished. Perhaps this wouldn’t be my fate, though my upper body strength is questionable, but in the world of ‘it could happen’ this leaves me with a sense of gnawing fear. Let’s not even discuss articles about sudden squalls capsizing boats everywhere, with the Coast Guard being forced to do a scuba search for the bodies. You can’t drown on your couch, well at least not in the watery grave way. One can most certainly drown in the existential ennui that comes with ‘Keeping up with the Khardashians’, but you don’t have to be fished from the lake. All that fear for just one activity, however crippling was met head on when I went night sailing. I attempted to go with the flow, opting for the second glass of wine, but as the night wore on I couldn’t help but put on a life jacket, just because I wasn’t going to be the one that was going to die. I also was able to hone my lookout skills as being the only one sober enough to point out that the lights in the distance were indeed a small freighter, which as luck would have it was coming towards the even larger freighter that everyone else was able to see, as we sailed slowly towards them, our Captain attempting to fix our lights so that we would be visible. Yes we survived, and it was a moderately pleasant experience which may deaden my fear a smidge the next time, but that will come into contact with my fear of pushing my luck. There are no winners here.
After sailing I opted to compile a sumptuous list of fears, rational or otherwise. It seems that the majority of my fears could be deemed completely irrational. Go figure. The list is long, so I’ve condensed some of the fears to the activity, the primary fear, the irrational fear, the possible foul play and the most likely result. I present the cases now, if only I possessed the skills to draft some sort of flow chart I know they could ultimately all be interlaced together.
The first activity I present: Camping – the primary fear - where pray does one go to the bathroom, say you eat something bad, or worse yet, there are others around? the irrational fear – sadistic serial killers that comb the woods for their next human skin vest. Possible foul play – bears, big angry bears, and I am not talking about the fun, gay, bearded kind. Most likely result – too much time spent with self, then others and the presence of an acoustic guitar and a sophomoric rendition of Classic Girl by Janes Addiction, followed by uncomfortable sleeping conditions and the unpleasantness of the out of doors that our soft American existence has kept us from. (Can you believe they don’t even put screens on their windows in Europe? That’s insane!)
Motorcycles: the primary fear – death, or a closed head injury. Irrational fear – being crushed or dragged to death by a semi-truck, or worse yet, a minivan. Possible foul play – a muffler burn, or bad dating decision based on fear. Most likely result – unbearable vulnerability to the elements.
Snakes: the primary fear – you happen on a poisonous snake, it coils and bites you. You die. Irrational fear – a den or pit of snakes, or worse yet, you are sitting at a bus stop in the Australian Outback on a hot summer day, and some guy starts his truck not knowing a King Snake has coiled itself underneath, as he starts to drive the stunned snake is flung through the air and lands on you, just quietly waiting for a bus. Several bites later, there you are dead, surrounded by members of Midnight Oil. (I actually heard about this happening by the way, except for the Midnight Oil addition, because it is probably hard to get all the members of Midnight Oil in the same place these days). Snakes have more than one irrational fear, what if one comes up through the toilet, or the drain in the tub? Shit like this happens in the southwest I swear. Possible foul play – someone loses their ‘pet’ boa and it crawls into the walls. Years later, or months later, it crawls out looking for food, and you look down and there it is. Most likely result – a garter snake slithers near you, or over your foot and you are momentarily freaked out.
Cars – oh cars, what fiery death machines. Primary fear – an auto accident, which of course is fatal. Never mind the embarrassment of the media reports that you were texting, and or met your demise singing ‘It’s a Sin’ by the Pet Shop Boys at the top of your lungs while forgetting to signal a lane change and getting careened by seven Crotch Rockets in the midst of a late night drag race. Irrational fear – hitting a buck, whose antlers come through the windshield and stab you in your cold, cold heart. Possible foul play – a fender bender with an imploding air bag whose resin makes you a TSA suspect the next day when you have to fly somewhere. Most likely result – you get a speeding ticket, which means points on your license and impending financial distress.
I have only just begun to list the many fears harbored in my troubled mind, there are far too many for just one blog entry, so I will stop, if only temporarily, so that I may compile more at my leisure. Which could be stolen from me at any time through some sort of unjust prison sentence. Until then, I vow to begin to address these fears, slowly but surely, perhaps one a month. With sailing down, and survived, who knows what could be next. One thing I know, is that with all these possible scenarios already thought out, I am ready, which means, while I might be nuts, I will survive. Because I am prepared people, I am prepared.
