I almost died earlier this month.
Yeah. Yeah, I did. You’re like, “Shea, pfft, death, you didn’t almost, there’s no, you’re, are you, come on.” No I swear, reader. I did.
But luckily, I survived.
Just kidding. Shea’s ghost here to recount the story. And because I’m an Internet troll, here’s a ghost joke, the only way to Casper your attention. I just want to lift your spirits.
So I walked into our College Park Starbucks to purchase a beverage, as I do sometimes, and I was hungry as well as thirsty. This rarely happens.
I purchased a protein box, a bag of almonds and a hot beverage. The protein box is adorable and delicious. Think about its boxiness.
I went to the counter, took out my debit card connected to the Swiss bank account I own that I have millions of dollars stashed away in and paid for my meal. Didn’t even make a dent.
“I’m hungry!” yelled my stomach. Really embarrassing when she does that. But I took out the egg to appease her starvation.
I had only eaten an apple that day, so I needed sustenance even to drift to the pick-up counter where my hot beverage would be sitting.
I popped the egg into my mouth. It wasn’t a normal-sized egg; it was smaller, with a good centimeter of circumference shaved clean off. It seemed little enough to eat in one bite. But I would soon find that this egg. Was not hard-boiled. This egg …
WAS DEVILED.
I swallowed half of the egg and very quickly realized I WASN’T BREATHING. I kept trying to swallow it, but the other half was stuck solid in my pipe. I looked around, grasping my throat, and the lady behind the counter turned to me with, “Are you … ARE YOU CHOKING?”
I gave the international sign for choking.
The barista and I followed with the usual procedure.
I was relatively calm, although I was losing my sight and ability to stand. BUT TO MY SURPRISE, a man I would soon be able to call Phil, who stood to my right, dropped his things with a “Holy fuck!” or “Oh my god!” or “I got you!” (It was all a blur.)
He swung his arms around my waist, underneath my ribs, delivered three powerful thrusts (stop it … ) and dislodged the item from my upper airway. Everyone in Starbucks was watching. They were witnessing the unveiling of a superhero and the saving of a young collegiate woman.
She was beautiful.
The only other time I’d been given the Heimlich maneuver was near my eighth birthday. I was eating microwaved bacon, as I always did when I got home from extracurriculars, and stuffed too many pieces into my mouth. My dad saved me. I’d been swine since then.
Now, everyone in Starbucks was looking at me and Phil. I was in shock. My throat felt like I had just extracted an 18-wheeler and I was dizzy. In my hand was a mother penguin-like regurgitation of a hard-boiled egg. I looked up to Phil to say something and he motioned toward my face. I threw away Satan’s breakfast box and cleaned the egg shrapnel from my cheek.
“You need to thank that guy. He just saved your life,” the Starbucks employee said.
“Uh. Holy. I. Thank you.”
I think Phil said something along the lines of “yeah” or “you’re welcome.”
“This would be a really neat story for you, too. Romance. You were choking, he saved your life, you guys could start dating. How great of a first story would that be?”
Phil looked at me and turned to the Starbucks lady, cringing, and said awkwardly, “yeah … uhh … no.”
“Yeah … no … me neither,” I added. If Phil didn’t want to date me, then I didn’t want to date him. I had just finished a shift at Chipotle, smelled like burritos and had thrown up an egg in front of him. I guess I understood the lack of attraction.
But I didn’t even know what to say to him. I was surprisingly calm, although everyone was still staring at me. I yelled something like “I’m OK! He saved my life!” and people smiled. There were no claps like in the movies.
A man approached the two of us to say he “had my back if that guy wasn’t going to jump in and save” me. He was a flight attendant and knew what was happening to me as soon as I reached up to my neck.
Phil and I talked about books for a while after. I said “thank you” a lot, too. Then we parted ways. I didn’t think I’d ever see him again until I got a friend request last week on Facebook.
But thanks again, Phil. Eggcellent save.
