Tonight I watched the show Prison Break, which is back after a long Winter hiatus.
Although it's pretty clear from the title of the show that there will indeed be an escape at some point, the drama building up to the scheduled prisoner execution is still fairly gripping. If you like that sort of thing. Which I do.
I got to thinking, What if it was me?
I don't mean what if it was me that was about to be executed after being framed for murder. That would be pretty fucked up, to be sure, but I mean What if I knew that I only had a few hours left to live?
What the hell, what if I had a few weeks instead of a few hours?
What would I do? What would I say? How would I act?
The first thing I'd do would be quit my job. Hang out with my friends and my family. Not for too long though. Just long enough to ease a little bit of the guilt I'd feel for what came next.
I would start selling my possessions. I'd need the money to make my last few weeks enjoyable. Everything would be sold except my house, which would go to my sisters upon my death, and my pool cue, which I'd take with me on a little trip. I'd say goodbye to my home and my cats and my family and my parents' graves and I'd hit the road.
I'd go to Omaha, In hopes that my friend Mike could spare some time to knock some balls around for a while. Maybe I'd kick his ass like I did in the old days. Maybe I'd get him to start throwing chalk around. Good times.
There would be no other reason for me to go to Omaha, so I wouldn't stay for very long. That life ended a long time ago.
Then I'd drive North and West. I like to think that I'd stop in Montana. I owe a couple of people there a big apology. I like to think that I'd do that, but the truth is I don't have the slightest idea where to even start looking for them. I'd probably just end up wishing my best to the trees and the mountains I drove through.
Next, I'd go to Seattle, and I'd stay there until I had only a week left. I'd hang out at my old bar, and drink beer and shoot pool with my old friends. Gene and Holly would probably get sick of me hanging around them so much. That's too bad though, because they made the time when I lived there bearable. I'd need to make sure that they knew it.
With one week left, with one week left I'd hit the road again, and then I'd have a decision to make. And this would be a decision that I don't think can be made ahead of time. Some things are either supposed to be spur of the moment, or they're not supposed to happen at all.
So, I don't know how far I'd take it. I'd absolutely go there. I'd certainly find her. I'd definitely see her.
Would I approach her? Would I talk to her? What would I say?
Would I tell her?
Like I said, some things are meant to be spontaneous, or they're not meant to happen. I'd like to think that I'd be strong enough to keep my big fat mouth shut. To tell her would be pointless and selfish and cruel. So I'd like to think that I'd be able to summon some tiny vestige of willpower and not say a word. I'd definitely see her though. Try and stop me.
Finally, when my time was down to just a day or two, I'd get on a plane. To Alaska maybe. Or Hawaii. I've always wanted to go to Hawaii.
My last day I'd spend alone. Because it would be a fitting ending for a life that's been spent alone. Because I wouldn't want to see the grief my impending death was causing the people I love. Because, let's face it, I really don't like people that much anyway.
A wise man once wrote:
I've heard that some animals, in the last seconds of their life, will often summon every last bit of energy and strength they have and just run. Run to hide, somewhere safe. Run to heal, somewhere warm. Run to die, somewhere private.That's what I'd do. I'd run to die, somewhere private.
I doubt that they'd ever find my body.