This story, she involves the harsh drogas, so be of the ware.

Me, a younger version of the mooliachi, was addicted to the heroizione and had been drinking all of the night to get these feelings to go away, cuz these feelings a bad thing, to be the addict of the street drugs. So, I drink all of the night, and nothing happen, no drunkenness, no passout, no peace, as the sun she is rising, I drive to the bad part of the town to get ease of this feelings.

I should of have the known, I was the drunk because, everytime I look at the speedometer, she is reading 100. But, alas, I make it to the corners where the young boys are saying "the rocks and the blows" and I order a couple of the blows. I drive down the street a little and do the parallel parking, and make use of the medical tools to get well.

But, I no get well, I die after pulling out of the parking space and stopping at the next red light. The policeman find me and call the fire department, and they stick me with the juice that make your muscles go the crazy and they wake me up. I open the eyes, I look at the policeman, who is yelling at me, " How does it feel to be of the dead?" and all sorts of mean questions, laughing with his fire fighter guys, and I say to him : "I have to shit" because it was all I could feel, this big shit coming out of my ass. Luckily, the paramedics show up and call them all cowboys for doing the juice in the mainline, but I am happy for it cuz they saved my life.

The policeman he says I was of the purple color when he find me, and he don't know whether to call the paramedics or the morgue. I'm so happy he call the paramedics!

But, the mooliachi, have not a moment of clarity during this ordeal, and when in the hospital, find the other bag of bad stuff equal to the amount that just killed me, go to the bathroom and sniff it.

I was so blind of the delusional selfish man at that time! So happy God let me live thru these horrible days! For now I am of the healthy father type, and I love this life, she is a beautiful thing.

and please excuse the bad italian fake accent, she is a new.

I was driving the car to the Urbana from the Chicago to visit the ex-lady friend for the kerble's birthday making outs many years ago. On the interstazione 47, the road, she twists and turns like the fettucini and she has the gravel shoulders like the empty aquariums.

The tires, they slip and the car, she spins like the belle ballerina. The tires hit the gravellissimo a-once-a more and the car, she does the spinning like the Kip of the Wingers towards the large telephone pole, but in the last minute, the tires hit the gravels agains for the triple-time and the car, she sails into the large ditch on the side of the roads.

The seatbelt, she is nice.

The kerble, he turned-a 21 in a ditch.



Faiz

Having some moments of sheer panic whilst attempting to be "athletic" on my college's crew team (read: getting hit in the face by an oar during a race, and also being waked by a freakin' CIRCLE LINE boat on the Harlem river at 7 AM while practicing for another race) in no way prepared me for my very recent Near Death Experience.

Of course, had I actually died, I could not share the story with you.

Last December, two days after Christmas, I was walking from the subway to Fordham University's Bronx campus to see a basketball game. I was meeting my mom there, because she works in the athletic department.

I was walking on the sidewalk, along Fordham Road, when I realized that I was walking in the wrong direction - away from campus. I was just about to turn around, when I saw this car driving really, really fast.

The car swerved out of traffic, as if to make a turn. Instead of turning into the street perpendicular to Fordham Road, he barreled ONTO THE SIDEWALK and right into me.

Out of everyone on the crowded sidewalk, I was the only one the driver hit. As he was about to hit me, I thought "what a waste", and realized that well, after all, it'll be a quick death and that's the best kind, right?

The next thing I knew, I was lying on the sidewalk, surrounded by people asking me to wiggle my toes. I pulled out my mobile phone and called my mother, to tell her that I just got hit by a car and wouldn't be making the game after all. Off duty police and some RN's from the nearby hospital were all asking me questions. One of them asked me how I felt, and I said "I feel a little run down."

The paramedics came swiftly, and loaded me into the ambulance. Since I had been struck in the legs, they wanted to remove my jeans. I asked them very politely to please not cut my jeans off. When the paramedic asked me why, I said "You have no idea how hard it is for me to find jeans that fit!" He laughed, and was able to roll my jeans up enough to see what the damage was.

Since I was strapped to a backboard, I had absolutely no idea what had happened to me, physically. It was a very scary feeling indeed, and I kept making jokes because I felt that if I didn't, I would start crying and freaking out, which wouldn't be a helpful thing to do.

When I got to the hospital, they put me in a bed between a gunshot wound and a woman who was in another car accident. Both were bloody and moaning in pain. The paramedics told me that if I had been two inches to the left that I would have been dead, and that the car that hit me had plowed into a pizza parlor's plate glass window, destroying the interior of the restaurant. I was the only person hurt.

My mom was with me as soon as they wheeled me into the triage center, and she even let me squeeze her hand really tightly when I looked at my legs for the first time. I may have to be tough for my job, but I must say that if there was ever a time I really wanted Mommy, this was it. I only had a scrape, and some bruises on my head and thighs. No blood, only a broken bone.

I always joke to my parents that they should hang on to the photographs I give them, because when I die they will be worth money (photographers rarely make money when they are alive, at least the fine-art ones).

I was very glad that they remained worthless.

I dreamt I fell 50 stories to my death, and when I woke up I was married to Courtney Love.

I am to tell of the two times when I am having the near-death experience.

OK. First time was about a 12 years ago and I am riding the bus inna the Ecuador, South Italia. The bus she is making to go down from the Quito down the Andes to the Lago Agrio. I am to go hiking to these volcano nearby to the Lago Agrio. Our bus she is to slow down very much for the other bus that is the slow-poke in front of us down these steep, steep Ande with the very many beeeutiful waterfall and the sheer, deadly cliff to the right. These bus driver, he is a not-so-patient to get to the Lago Agrio, so he decide to pass the slow-poke bus. Too bad he don't see 'til the last minute the big Coca-Cola truck thatsa comin' uppa the Ande. He yell what sound like a "EEE-WAY PUTA!" and means to say "Hijo de puta" which is a really ugly thinga to say inna fake italiano. Bodies flying around the bus, everybody screaming, an I'm a to think "I'm a gonna die" when my face she smashes to the seat in front of me. That was a some kinda wreck, but the passengers, we were the lucky ones. Some people they break the arms or bust the face, but all the little bambinos were a pretty much OK. The bus driver, he was not so lucky, I don't think. The ambulance she comes pretty soon and takes him away but I think he's a the muerto. The winsheild of the bus she look like a the big bloody spider web. After the wreck we are sharing the aspirins and band-aids with the passengers and they are sharing the Jean-Nate aftershave for to clean the big cut on my top lip. These big cut, I put on the band-aid an it look just like the Hitler- moustache but one guy to be polite he says it look-a like the Charles Chaplin. So we just get on another bus, but these one she is old and more the ricketty with the squeeky brakes and with no room inside so we are riding on the top. Okay!

Almost Death 2. These one I don't know how close I was to the death, pretty close maybe. Was about 3-4 years ago. I was doing the fishing with the Papá in the St. Marks Wildlife Refuge close to the big lighthouse. This water here she is the brackish water and the salt water and so many different fish there are here to catch but also many animals to see like the dolphin, the sea turtle, the pelican and always the big, big alligator. I always live here inna the Florida, Italia and we always laugh to hear the way so many the people who they don't live here are to be so afraid of the alligator. "These alligator, she's a no big deal" we say. but these time I was a fishin while to stand waist deep in the water onna little rock pile about 50 yards from a the shore, an I am to hear my Papá he is a screaming about something so I turn around back to see what's he yellin about and then I see it'sa the big, big alligator about 6 ft. away so close up to me and behind me in the water just a sittin there looking at me and I thought "I'm gonna get killed by these fahgina alligator" so I try to pick up the oyster-covered rock from the rock pile to smash the big alligator in the fahgina head but the rock she's stuck to the ground with the oyster shell so I just have to run-wade as fast as I can but the shallow water on the little spit of land goes right by the big alligator and all this time he was with the head at the surface of the water where I could see him but when I am running by him he decides to go under the water where I cannot to see him. Here is where I was to feel no more like mister alligator tough-guy and started the freaking out. But the big alligator, she did not want to eat me so that's why I don't know if it was really the near death but it was a pretty scary time. I still like the alligator, just from a little bit more far away.

I ride motorcycles, and I used to race on a track at which i would regularly exit the last turn on the circuit going 135 mph with the outside of my right knee touching the ground, while the inside of that knee was pressed hard against the bodywork of the motorcycle (which, if you're having trouble picturing it, means I was leaned over really far). Most of my near-death experiences, however, have occurred during the nearly 200,000 miles I have ridden in and around Los Angeles. The worst:

(By the way, the following account is cobbled together from police accident reports and eyewitness accounts, because I have no recollection of the event, or of the three days before the event, or, as you shall understand shortly, the three days after the event...)

I was riding north on Main street in Venice, a block from my work, going approximately 45 mph. A chiropractor driving a Ford Ranger to the local gymnasium turned left in front of me, having "not seen" me. I struck the A pillar (windshield frame) of his truck, head-first. The impact broke my Shoei RF-800 helmet straight down the middle. It also:

Fully collapsed both of my lungs.
Ruptured my spleen.
Lacerated my liver.
Crushed my T-6 vertebra.
Broke my right collarbone and scapula.
Cracked five ribs.
Broke my pelvis.
Caused massive internal bleeding.

Though I presented negative vitals at the scene of the accient, I was transported via helicopter to UCLA Medical Center, where my heart was restarted, my lungs were reinflated, tubes were inserted into both lungs (through my sides) to drain the accumulated fluid, a twelve inch incision was made from my sternum to my "lower quarters" so that my other internal injuries could be repaired, and I was kept in the intensive care unit, comatose, in critical-but-stable condition.

I awoke from the coma three days later. Before I opened my eyes, I felt the tube in my throat and the tubes in my nostrils and I knew that something bad had happened! Upon opening my eyes, I wasn't sure what the hell had happened, because I was met by wavering doubled images, the result of my head having been knocked so hard that my eyes somehow went out of stereo alignment. That lasted for two weeks. I couldn't walk for a month, and had to use a walker for a month after that. I underwent six months of physical therapy. I purchased another motorcycle four weks after the accident.

By the way, my last big accident, a crash at 80 mph on Interstate 5, resulted in me losing sensation in the outer half of my right hand (including the pinkie and ring finger), losing the joint where my left thumb meets the wrist, undergoing six operations, and spending a total of five months wearing casts on both arms. I went riding motocross bikes all day today, a fact for which I truly give thanks. Peace out!

Superking wrote:2) Lightning bolt hit a telephone pole about 7 yards in front of me. The loudest, brightest, most disorienting experience of my life, followed by a shower of sparks and me running and screaming like an ape -- all higher brain functions shut down; I was overcome by dumb, animal fear.

goodness christ! You are so lucky to walk away from that one, especially without any major problems, like going blind, or being dead. The temperature of a lightning strike is as hot as the surface of the sun

joshsolberg wrote: I couldn't walk for a month, and had to use a walker for a month after that. I underwent six months of physical therapy. I purchased another motorcycle four weks after the accident.

Unfortunately, I know what you mean. The non-illegal faux-suicidal behavior is so much of the fun, she is the life-blood of the waking hour.

Although I am 32 years old and weigh the 200 pounds, I continue to ride fast on the skateboard. Up and down the ramps, down the hills, up in the air and occasionally flying across the concrete on my ass... I have broken 12 of the bones, had stitches many time and seem to get hurt quite often. But nothing can keep me away from this painful obsession. When I am feeling depressed, I can usually link it to lack of the skateboarding...

Knowing what I now know about my behavior, I am hopelessly obsessive. Especially in my search for something outside myself to make my inside feel better. Now, if only I could find a way to help other people while doing this activity, I would have best reason to keep going.

air mooliachi wrote:Knowing what I now know about my behavior, I am hopelessly obsessive. Especially in my search for something outside myself to make my inside feel better. Now, if only I could find a way to help other people while doing this activity, I would have best reason to keep going.

Camp Mooliachi


Faiz

My near death experience came in the summer of 2003 in Chicago:

trev in the inferno

Woke up at 2:30am to a complete inferno - the crackling of the fire is what woke me - that's how close it was. If we had been sleeping another 10 minutes it would have been all over.

This was the first, and so far the only time, when my mind was filled with "oh fuck... this could be it!" - those thought's seriously cloud a person's mind when one is trying to decide the best escape from a fire.

Like a dumbass.. I grabbed my laptop on the way out.....

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