They say that before you die, your life flashes before your eyes. I would like to say that perhaps before, before you’re going to maybe die, your future life flashes before your eyes. 

Take for instance, the last hour of my life, half of which was spent actively thinking it was the last hour of my life. What flashed? Besides light bulbs? The end of decisions. A vast chasm of thoughts like, “I wouldn’t have to worry about getting a job, or finding a health care plan, or having to sign up for dating apps – or dating, or finding an apartment, or a couch” – a complete end to decisions. 

The “End of Decisions” flash was brought on by the decision to get in a car. A car that had to drive an hour to the train station, because the railway tracks were not brave enough to come up that high in the mountain that was covered in so much fog you could literally only see white, and it was dark outside. 

There was zero visibility and there were no seatbelts.

The car wound itself around the turns as though it were a rollercoaster on a set track, expertly, like it had done it a thousand times before, but also a little jagged, like it was surprised that mountain turned. 

“At least we have our passports so they can identify our bodies” my friend said as it looked as though we could have driven off the side of an unmarked cliff. Her next thought, as we went into on coming traffic to pass an 18 Wheeler, was about where her zip lock bags were – in case she needed to throw up

For one reason or another (mostly skill and a lot of luck) the End of Decisions did not come, damn you Real Life still making me face you in the mirror. 

Only three weeks to go before I am back in the US and need to start making decisions again. 

For reference – if anyone goes to Sapa, Vietnam and does the same route back to the railway station, just consider it an amusement park ride without a waiting line.