“And if I die today,” were the first words to hit my ears this morning. Nothing quite like waking up to a little Tori Amos. The random function on my CD player alarm clock could have done a much worse job. As I went through my usual routine, the gods of random music selection smiled upon me. “Stir It Up” and “Soma” made for good shower music. When I got out and it came time for my customary fully nude double bicep slap and pectoral flex in my full length mirror, I felt like the “bad motherfucker who lives it every day” Sully Erna was discussing in “Time Bomb.”

I threw on a pair of boxers and stepped outside my back door to give the weather a check and noted what a beautiful day this could turn out to be. So I decided to begin the day with a hash joint after I finished my Spanish homework and before I made the journey to class on what seemed to be an average Tuesday morning. Over a Turkish Silver and the walk to campus, I reflected on how fortunately things have turned out to allow me to be in this particular corner of space-time. I finished my cigarette just before the “No Smoking” sign at the top of the stairs leading to my Spanish class. I pulled the travel sized can of Axe out of the pocket of my man-purse of a messenger bag.

I sprayed myself off and popped a piece of cinnamon gum on my way in the building. I was hoping to avoid reeking of Turkish Silver. Instead, I ended up reeking of cigarette smoke and cheap body spray. But at least my breath was fresh. For whatever reason, my Spanish brain works best with a little mota. So does my appetite, and by the end of class only one was satisfied. So on the way home, my only thought was on the contents of my cupboard.

It was early yet, so breakfast was in order. Turkey breast and pickled jalapeños made for a decent omelet. A pot of green tea paired nicely. It warmed my soul and inspired me to hit the links. After another hash joint, I packed up my discs and headed to Pease to enjoy this day that had fallen upon me.

I started off better than usual. Par, par, birdie ended with me even after six; so I decided to reward myself with a bowl under 24th Street. Mid-pull, I notice I’m standing right above what appeared to be a sleeping vagabond. I quickly moved my chillem from my hand to my pocket and jumped over him.

“God damnit watch where you ash!” followed this seemingly innocuous move. I must have knocked the cherry out on this poor chap when I put the pipe up. I apologized and resolved the situation with a can of Bud Light, and went about my merry way for a smooth round and solid finish at three over par.

When I got back to the car, I was pleased to see my good buddy Fullbeard had given me a call. He was heading up to Crown and Anchor, so I swung by the house to shower and met him at the pub. We sat. And talked politics. And drank a couple pitchers of wheat beer. We even got in a game of pool or four. There was still plenty of daylight left when he had to go to class, so I decided to head to Mount Bonnell to catch the sunset. I stopped by the house to roll another doobey for the cause and made my way.

I started climbing the stairs just before dusk. I sneaked off behind a bush to get right for the moment before I enjoyed the end of this day I’d been blessed with. The smile on my face must have only been measurable by country miles. When the sky was fading from pinks and lavenders to certain shades of indigo, I heard a strange noise coming from above, behind, and to the right of me. I turned in time to see a flash of red and white before being weightlessly lifted from my feet. When I looked down, could see clearly what had taken place. The flash of red and white was one of those four-foot long scale models of a bi-plane. And I can only assume what laid next to it dressed in cargo shorts and a 311 t-shirt is me.