5:30 in the Morning

I am choosing to write about this topic for a few reasons. First of all it is the time that I have to get up in the morning so I can go and teach seminary to a whole bunch of eager teenagers who are dying to hear the gospel (Ya right, more like just dying being at seminary), the other reason is I would like to describe a phenomemon that happens throughout the world and could happen in the most remote village and actually could happen at any time in the day. To explain it I need to use a scenario. You are driving in your car and have the radio tuned to that favorite station when all of a sudden the commercials end and that song that you love comes on. It is three minutes of perfect bliss as you sing a long at the top of your voice in your own personal domian. You don't seem to notice the other people around you giving you weird looks as you preform all the hand actions while trying to drive at the same time. One could say that this is one of the finer things in life, right up there with filet mignon and staying at the ritz. Now let's go to another place in time, for me it is 5:29 AM and I am laying in my bed fast asleep. I am completely oblivious to the fact that in now less than a minute the radio will be blaring and startle me awake, and do you know what will be playing on the radio, yep you guessed it, that favorite song that I like so much the day before. But now it is playing on the alarm radio that alters all music to make it sound like a pack of wailing banshees. I don't think in my 28 years of waking up I have ever said about a song that woke me up, "Oh I love this song turn it up". No, now the song is mutated into a horrible beast that is bellowing and spreading its misery to all the inhabitants in the room and the rooms of the people next door. The only thing that you can think about is "Why could anybody like such a song. Make it stop!" Then I start thrashing trying to put the beast out of its misery, just like trying to put a dog down humanly and as fast as possible, but all I have is my fists. I strike and strike until I finally hit that magic spot "Snooze". I am so pleased with myself that I completely loose interest in all that is rational and to know that I have to get up when all of a sudden I fall back to slumber, only to be woken up again by the resurrected beast that refuses to dies until either I or the beast meets its mortal demise. Yet as horrible as this may be, I prefer it to waking up to my brother Russell prodding me awake. The way to make him be quiet is no less different than silencing a radio, you hit him until he stops. The worst of all though is waking up while you are driving. That will scare the heck out of you. You have been on the road for hours and your wife is sleeping in the seat next to you. You just drank a 64 oz Dr. Pepper and nothing is helping. The rational thing to do would be pull over, but by that point all that is sane has gone out the window, when all of a sudden you wake up again. And what is the best method of staying awake, that exact same way of silencing the radio, you beat yourself and shout, "wake up wake up don't fall asleep." Now your mind is racing that this could be a life and death situation and that falling asleep could mean your unfortunate death at these speeds. You can see the obituary in the newswpaper the next week and begin to wonder what is going on your epitaph, just to find yourself waking up again. Not once has it occured to you that just by slowing the car down and pulling off to the side of the road is an option. The way that I find to stay awake during these times is to make up games on the road. I end up making my own lingo for people on the road, for instance the black Mustang going 90 is a rabit and I just happen to be the fox chasing it. I get into a series of talk that I will someday try and form into everyday casual conversation, that of side swipers and dooder hoppers. Soon I become just like a Sports announcer commentating a figure skating championship, "He just did a triple lane switch with a double prod slip tire turn." If only driving was an olympic event. Sometimes I pretend that the white lines are posinous and that if I touch them my tires will pop and yet I will change lanes at dangerous speeds just to see if I can avoid them. "Wow I did it at 70, let's try 95." Nothing quite seems real at this point in time, its only my life I am putting at stake. Other times I wish that I had a set of paintball guns mounted under my hood so I could shoot the car that is going 60 in the left hand lane. All this time Heather is passed out to everything. Then here comes a jerk cuts me off trying to fit into a 3 foot space in front of me which I was purposely hugging the bumper of the person in front of me so this person could not get into it. There is screeching of tires and horns and cars swerving, total mayem and then when all is calm and I am white knuckled on the steering wheel because all of a sudden reality kicks in due to the near death experience that I just had, the favorite starts playing on the radio and I hear Heather stir and in a sleepy voice say as if she just had a terrific nap, "Sorry I fell asleep, are we there yet?" I bet that is the best way of getting woken up.