Now, Cambodia is known for one of the countries where the number one cause of deaths is, traffic accidents. I see it happening everyday. However, that doesn’t stop me from driving a motorbike to get from point A to point B.
It was a night when I decided I want to spend time with people until late. I had a friend going with me to a gig, which was somewhere around street 51, of our mutual friend and a dinner with a different set of friends planned. I gave notice to my housemates that I was going to be out after our set curfew.
The dinner was swell. My friends and I were all chilling at that sports bar and then, three of us decided to go ahead and proceed to the gig. The three of us each had our motorbikes, the venue was not that far-away. Since I didn’t know the way to the venue, I opted to follow the friend who knew how to get there and the other friend was tailing me.
The drive was smooth, the traffic wasn’t bad either. Through Street 63’s dimly lit stretch we rode our bikes, I felt safe because I was following a friend. Through potholes and humps we went, I was not driving fast at all.
Then, in what felt like a flash forward in a movie, the friend I was following took a turn, without flashing any signal for me to see. Before I knew it, I crashed into that friend as he cut me in his sharp turn. My friend fell on top of me for a second or two before
There I lay, the gasoline was oozing out of the motorbike. For a second I couldn’t breathe, the middle of my rib cage rammed into the head of the bike. When I was on the ground, all I could think of was, “Get up. Darn it get up.” So I got up. I jumped a few times and coughed until my chest loosened. I checked if I had any broken bones, thankfully, none. I had a few scratches on the side of my right foot, a few bruises on my left thigh. My right foot got soaked in gasoline and it was stinging big time, I had to get it cleaned right away.
Thankfully, the other friend who was tailing me had presence of mind, he asked me if I felt pain in any part of my body. The two of them then brought me to the nearest clinic to get patched up. After feeling what alcohol felt like on an open wound again after such a long time–my last, sometime around high school, my friends and I decided to go to the gig. It was near the clinic anyway.
I had a good time, all forms of kidding and sarcasm aside–being drenched in blood, then in alcohol and iodine and then finally, in music. and oh, I was thankful that nobody was smoking near where I crashed, if there was one though, everything would surely go “BOOM!” and it would be bye-bye for me. Thank God, I defied death and I still have a chance to take on the world, one day at a time.
First dive ain’t so bad ya know.