In an iconic Wayne’s World moment, Garth Algar turns to Phil, a partied-out friend, and declares, “If you’re gonna spew, [brandishes small paper cup] spew into this.” Garth may not have known it at the time, but he was spouting some wisdom. If you must allow fate to do unto you some horrible shit, then do it in style (or absurdly). And although death may be a wee bit different from upchucking two liters of J.D., this principle persists.
I’ve often been asked the heavy question, “If you could die in any way you wanted, how would you do it?” The honest to goodness answer would have to be: as peacefully as damn well possible. This is death we’re talking about; each of us has to stare into a lifeless, soulless, shadowy vortex of mortality every time the clock ticks another minute away. But as it’s inevitable, it doesn’t have to be all bad. Now, a good deal of us can be heavily medicated before the end arrives. But that’s so anti-climatic. Better to spew into that little cup in a moving car than gurgle in a bed until the reaper shows.
If you must die, then go about it in the most epic way possible. For example, if you know you have Alzheimer’s creeping toward you, use your massive fortune (because face it, you’re a winner) to pay off friends and family to set up an elaborate ruse. Every time you lose a memory, a member of your familial or social circle will be like, “Bro, remember the time you slept with that hot alien chick that escaped from the government?” And, in your sickly state of brain blankness, you’ll respond, “Yes… yes I do!” So by the time you kick the bucket, you’ll basically think you’re a rocket surgeon who has not only brought Mary Shelley back from the dead, but also given it to her hard.
Alternatively, you could get a police radio and wait for some awesome crime, like something with a hostage situation. Locate the crime, put on either your Batman costume or a fine Italian suit and go to that location. Tell the police gathered around the scene that you’re “Going in!” and ninja on in there. When the criminals corner you, because you are neither Batman nor a suit-wearing ninja, go down fighting. You may not be remembered for your intelligence, but your heroism will be spoken of across the land and in the manliest of mead halls.
One last way you could die in an epic fashion would be to screw it all and just hike into the burly woods looking for a fight with nature itself. Kill a bear. Wear its skin. Go to the arctic and just murder an orca. Make an orca suit (and scare the shit out of some penguins). Ride the mighty moose and discover where indeed the buffalo roam. Then, once you’ve dug on some nature, scrawl a final testament on the side of a tree and challenge a great white shark to a brawl. Die brutally in the process (if the bear and orca haven’t destroyed your ass first).
And if you can come back from any of these experiences as a ghost, 1) good job for defying science, and 2) come haunt me so I can give you an incorporeal high-five.
If you knew you were going to die, and you had no choice about the when but all the choice about the how, which way would you choose to kick the bucket? Tell us in the comments below!