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And therein did my eyes deceive me, but a shimmer and mirage lied ahead. Floating down from heaven, descending on their pallid feet with fluttering wings and sunshine blonde hair. I rubbed my eyes and blinked. Blink blink. There they still were, but heaven no longer visible, only to be replaced by a giant hill named Lonsdale Avenue.

They approached closer and the silhouettes of wings now replaced by slender arms and gentle sways. The glint of sunlight reflected in their eyes, followed by hour-glass figures, I laid my eyes upon them from below; looking up into the sun, at the gift that came from my ribs. What blessed creatures were these!

My pace renewed with vigour as I continued my jog uphill, continuing the climb towards heaven and glory. Shall I rest now, when heaven is so near? I passed them silently, and kept my focus, wondering if my own focus was not if only slightly, misplaced. Read the rest of this entry »

It started out with some bad luck for myself; right from the moment I dropped my laptop in a puddle. And maybe I shouldve listened to the telltale signs and knew that this was not going to be my weekend. Forgetting my passport, showing up at the Alamo and them not having any clean cars left, dropping my laptop in a puddle, breaking a teacup at a restaurant, even missing the sale at Abercrombie & Fitch; perhaps I shouldve just turned around and went home, because the bad luck I was having was about to go from bad, to horrific. I am home now, eating a warm comforting meal of instant noodles, but three hours earlier, I confess that I had serious doubts to my future.

 I left Seattle late Sunday afternoon, heading up North on the I-5. I drove with a bit of relief that the weekend of bad luck was almost over and Id soon be home, eating dinner, and more importantly, sleeping in my own bed. I was worried about how I’d get across the border without my passport, but I tried not to think about it too much.

 Two hours later, I started to feel the effects of the grande caramel macchiato on my bladder and looked for a gas station to relieve myself. A few miles outside of Blaine, WA, I took exit 260 following a large, blue sign that promised a Shell station and hours of bladder relief; a Shell station that I would never find.

 I took a left and went west on Slater Road in search of this fabled gas station driving for 5 minutes before realizing that it was getting darker and darker. Two miles later and still, there was no gas station. Not only was there no gas station, there were no streetlights or buildings either; just pitch-black darkness and plains of farmland. I crossed over a river on a bridge that more or less resembled the one in Sleepy Hollow. Not able to wait anymore (my bladder was about burst), I pulled over to the side of the road, flipped on my hazards and stepped out of the car. I grabbed the keys out of the ignition, just to make sure I didn’t accidentally lock myself out of the car.

Outside, I quickly looked around for a tree that I could pee on, and headed towards it. Almost as soon as I stepped towards the tree, the ground began to heave, and I started to sink; I was walking on flooded grass fields. I sank to my knees, and panicked. Panicking, as it turns out, would be common theme for the night.

I ran back to the road, but it was too late. My shoes, and pants, were soaking wet and freezing cold. Still not having urinated, I rushed to open the trunk and pulled out my overnight bag so that I could change shoes. I threw my car keys on the back seat, and sat down. I quickly took off my socks and shoes, rolled up the wet part of my pants all the way up to my knees, and put on my dress shoes, at the same time, squeezing my bladder to hold on for a few more seconds.

I got up, closed the door, and unbuttoned my pants in one fluid motion. I leaned forward, just at the edge of the flooded field, and let it all go. I was sure people could see me peeing as they drove by, but I didn’t care, feeling that it was too late now for propriety. As I finished, my mind able to think again, I realized that as I was changing my shoes, I heard a definite ‘click’ that sounded a lot like my car doors locking!

My heart instantly filled with a terror that can only be described as a combination of horror, dread, fear and panic, in that order. I walked back to my car praying that I was wrong. Please, dear God, please let me be mistaken. Sure enough, the doors to my car were locked, and the keys were sitting inside.

A million things raced through my head. I couldn’t believe that this was happening. I started screaming, pacing back and forth, cursing my own carelessness and stupidity. I searched my pockets to take inventory of what I had. It almost felt like I was in my own role-playing fantasy game, where fantasy was replaced with nightmare. I had nothing on me except my wallet, and $12 dollars. I reached for my phone in my coat pocket, but it wasn’t there. It was sitting snugly in my cup-holder.

Still with no idea where this supposed gas station was, I looked down the road hoping to see the glowing lights of the gas station, or maybe even just a store. There was nothing but emptiness and more darkness, but one thing was clear, my options were limited. I dug my fingers between the door and doorframe, and pulled as hard as I could, hoping to pry the door open with raw adrenaline. Nothing. Not even my fury and rage could unleash enough strength to open these doors.

I looked on the ground at the pebbles, and out of desperation, I thought of breaking the window. I could smash the back window, grab the keys, and be on my way. It might get a little drafty in the car, but I was willing to accommodate a bit of discomfort for assured safety. My Maslow’s hierarchy of needs reduced to two things: shelter and safety ‘ in other words, getting home.

I walked further along the road, but no suitably sized boulders were available. Out of desperation, I took my left shoe off and started banging as hard as I could on the back window. My shoe was useless, and did nothing but render me partially deaf for a few seconds. I briefly considered using my elbow or fist, but remembered seeing someone do this in the movies and didn’t think it was worth breaking bones over. What if I took a rock and hurled it at the window? Looking back, I’m glad I didn’t keep trying. The customs officers would definitely give me a hard time about the shattered window.

In my blind panic, I looked to seeking help from passing cars. I stood at the side of the road, flailing my arms, and hitching out my thumb. Halloween night, standing on the side of the road with rolled up jeans, in dress shoes and no socks, I don’t know why I thought anyone would stop to help me. It was almost a certainty that they would drive faster upon seeing me, not slower. Being Asian surely didn’t help either, especially since I was in farmland country. If a rural couple passed me, I’m sure the wife would turn to her husband and say, ‘Punch it, Cletus, he’s catching up!’

It became apparent that I’d have to walk for miles to find any civilization. Maybe even walking all night, and even then, who would I find to help me? Every store would be closed. I honestly, thought this would end horribly for me.

So I did what most people do in times of desperation, and utter panic. I prayed.

I asked God to forgive me for being what I am, and asked for help. I asked, but was not convinced anything would come of it. I looked up to the sky, held my arms up, and yelled out to God, ‘Help me! Please!’ The next thing that happened was remarkable.

A motorcycle stopped in front of my car. He pulled over and actually stopped! I was so thankful and relieved that someone actually stopped. He waited about 50 feet ahead as I ran to meet him, panic-stricken and visibly shaken. He took off his helmet, and asked me what was wrong. After explaining my situation, he told me, ‘In Jesus’ name, I’ll try to help you.’ I was amazed and shocked.

 He walked back with me to the car, and said he has tools at home, but it might be better to call for help. So, he let me use his cell phone and I called 911, thinking they would be able to help. But they wouldn’t do anything but lecture me on proper usage of 911. They told me to find a payphone and a phone book.

Although he couldn’t take me on his motorcycle, he told me where the nearest gas station was. He was kind, and helpful, more than I can say for the people that kept driving past me. I suppose if I saw a young man in rolled up jeans, jumping up and down and waving, I would keep on driving too.

I headed in the direction he pointed me to, and it turns out, had I turned right instead of left after getting off the freeway, I would’ve immediately seen the stupid gas station.

I started off walking but then broke out in a dead run to the gas station, stopping every 20 feet to throw my thumb out, hoping to get a ride. Hitchhiking was never something that I’ve had much experience with, so I may have done it wrong. Throwing pebbles at the cars that didn’t stop may have been why I didn’t get picked up. I eventually found the gas station after about 20 minutes. There, I waited, for what seemed like forever, for the tow truck to come. We went back to my car and within 5 minutes, he unlocked the car door. I was so relieved to have this man help me. He was like a superhero coming to the rescue. I had to fight off an urge to hug him.

In the end, crossing back across the border was the least of my worries. I was let back into Canada without even a second glance. Some might even say that it was ironic, somewhat akin to rain on a wedding day, even.

I cringe at what took place, for the good and the bad, and feel strangely numb. What do I make of everything that happened? Spiritually, I can only thank God for being with me. Maybe it would’ve been a lot worse, had he not have been.

This article is ghost-written for the person who did see it, but is afraid to tell the world. I on the other hand, have no such shame.

It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon, and as is the case on most Sundays, I was nowhere near a church. I’ve spent many, many years of my life avoiding Church, especially ones that concern latter day saints. Living my life as a guilt-free sinner, I made a pact with myself to keep my true faith secret, and away from religious fanatics and telemarketers alike. Read the rest of this entry »