Ricky Routes in "The Most Dangerous Drive"

I just spent a terrific night hanging out with Erico Suave and MacArthur. It was a rockin' homemade dinner party. Erico Suave cooked baked chicken cordon bleu and rosemary potatoes, MacArthur brought out some soda, and I brought Coldstone cupcakes for dessert. I also brought Rock Band for us to play. The food was great and I got ripped off at Coldstone (after the guy charged me full price instead of the discounted price advertised right next to the register and then claimed the discount period was over), but this blog isn't about the actual dinner party. It's about the drive home.

I didn't leave their place until 1:11AM when I was already dozing off. I knew I had a tough drive ahead of me, given that Newport Beach is about a 40 minute drive from home. So I put on the iPod, set it to "In the Heights," and drove into the night.

But not even rapping like Usnavi could keep me from dozing off. It started with the vision. I would see the lanes in front of me and then a sort of delayed lane, almost as if I was inebriated (but I wasn't). Then I felt my consciousness slip; you know, like mini black outs. Nothing long enough to run off the road or anything, but noticeably losing awareness about surroundings.

At one point, there was a car way ahead of me and all of a sudden, I was on his tail. I panicked and quick maneuvered into the next lane and passed him.

As soon as I realized what was happening, I slapped my face around and immediately started singing louder to the songs, trying to wake myself up. Usually that does the trick, but this time was different. I began dozing off still, but fully aware that I was still singing at the top of my lungs. It was as if my singing body self was separate from my mental state. This really freaked me out.

I don't really know how I did it, but I made it home safely. I'm really not looking forward to experiencing that again. I need to learn to love coffee or something.


Sleep deprived,

Ricky