The shittiest night of my life must have taken out at least three versions of me, but probably more. After all, if we break it down to the quantum level and talk about spin, I’m sure there are so many subatomic particles in my body that each moment results in a larger number of possible variations than I can comprehend.
I guess if I were living in a Welcome to Nightvale type world and needed to kill my double, these near death experiences I had at 23 would have taken care of a few of those pesky dangerous doubles. However, since this particular pocket of spacetime I happen to inhabit does seem to be composed of different dangers than the ones found in my favorite podcast, I’ve made a pact with my friend Lionel (who happened to have a near death experience between the two I had just over a year ago) that neither of us will have any more near death experiences for a couple of decades. Maybe one more in 20 years or so because you’ve gotta keep things interesting, but then that’s it.
The world increasingly reminds me of Nightvale though, so if we reach that kind of craziness, all bets are off.
Gracetopher Kirk 