How to: Survive One Night at Myrtle Beach with Absolutely Nothing

I was 18. Fresh out of high school. My family goes to Myrtle Beach every year. I brought 3 of my friends. My friends and I decided to stay another day while my family went home. The only problem is, we couldn’t stay at the house we were in, and we had nothing…
After a long night out on the town, I had to wake up early and clean the house before we had to get out for good. I remember I ate ice cream cake for breakfast on the porch. After that, I had to wake up my friends and we were out. We drove around trying to find a hotel for cheap for that night…
We drove down the “strip” where the hotels were. We would stop the car, and 3 of us would split up and run into different hotels and find out how much they were. We drove around forever and found nothing. After a while, my friend Eric ran back to the car excited. “I FOUND ONE, I FOUND ONE, $65!!” No way, we got in the car, and drove over to the hotel. 65 sounded crazy because everything else was about 200. We park the car, he gets out, walks to the office door and pulls. It’s locked. We sat in the car confused but watched him look around. We see him walk up to someone, talk, hang his head, and walk back to the car. He gets in the car and says, “She was a prostitute” He thought she worked there. We laughed a lot.
Upset, we decided to eat. We discussed where we would stay that night, then we decided to take a nap. We drove to a parking garage to what would later be referred to as “level 4 to the extreme.” It was extreme because my friend Eric slept on the oil stained ground in a sleeping bag and the rest of us slept sweating like crazy in the car with the doors open. Then we rolled around on luggage racks.
With no place to sleep that night, I decided to try Wal Mart. I had seen an episode of Saved by the Bell where they slept in a mall all night to score some U2 tickets. HA! Those kids… so we went to Wal Mart. We went to the bathroom and there was a guy obliterating the stall. U know how you can’t laugh because u don’t want to be rude. We were all silent laughing so hard we were crying.
After that we found chairs that turned into beds, we laid them out under the shelves so we could sleep there. It was a 24 hour Wal Mart.
Then we ate some more. We saw a girl that looked like a crazy caveman version of my friend. What up Andrea E.
We had to figure out where we were going shower. After all, we were going out that night. I decided to try the house we had just stayed at all week. I figured we could use the outside shower. New people were already there. We then snuck into an empty house’s outside shower. The water was off. We drove to a house where a man was sitting outside. We made Eric go ask him if we could use his shower. The guy said, “Oh yeah man, I was in high school once” He was also drinking and way too excited to have us shower at his house. That was a very awkward time for all of us.
We went out that night. It was crazy. We went back to WAL MART and it was way too busy to sleep there. We decided to drive home. We said we were all going to take turns, but as soon as we started driving, I fell asleep and didn’t wake up until we got home. Apparently we stopped a couple times and almost died, but I’m ok with not remembering that.

How to: Choke on Steak and Almost Die (with actual pics)

Many have heard. Many have not.

Last year, I was eating steak at a restaurant I won’t name: Texas Roadhouse. I stabbed the steak with my fork, placed it in my mouth and immediately began to choke. I threw up all over my plate and hands, but the piece of steak was MIA.

I literally thought I was about to die. I could barely breathe. I could talk, but was still choking on steak at the same time. “You silly steak part…” I thought as I gasped for air. I tried to throw it up. That did not work. I could not swallow water. I could not swallow my own spit, and I had to throw it up constantly.

“This isn’t good.” said Kyle to himself.

That night, after hours of standing outside, I wrote a facebook note, that was a “joke.” It was actually my will. I tried to sleep, but I woke up at 4am, and I could not breathe. Scared that I was about to die, I drove to the ER and almost died on the way there. I almost passed out, and I was cold and shaking. They made me stand behind the counter in case I died. …Sweethearts…

Eventually they put me in a room. Gave me morphine. Morphine made every muscle in my body tighten, then relax. Morphine was so good. They gave me a medicine that would “loosen my throat” so the steak would go down. That didn’t work.

The next day, after I hadn’t been able to swallow anything, I went to the ER again. It had been 2 days with steak in my throat. I laid in the hospital room for 10 hours. They gave me more meds, but my skin was so thick because I was dehydrated that it made it very difficult to get the needle in my vein. That wasn’t cool. Then a doctor came to me and said they were going in to get it. I wrote a goodbye message on my cell phone that night. They wheeled me back to the OR. They gave me this medicine to knock me out. I said “Here we go.” And that was the last thing I remember.

I woke up, kind of…and the doc showed me a pic of the steak. It was nasty, round as a dime, and about two inches long. “Silly Kyle” I thought. Below is the tool they used to push the steak down.

I had to call the doctor and sign a release form for the steak pics, but there they are.

How to: Burn Your Dorm Down

Freshman year was the worst year of my life. One day me and two of my roommates were sitting in my room. I was on my computer; the other two were watching basic channels through static on a TV with rabbit ears.

From the angle I was sitting, I noticed a glow from the kitchen. I poked my head out of the door and calmly said, “Guys, the kitchen is on fire.” Almost too calm. They said, “What!?” and I said “The kitchen’s on fire.” They said “Run!”

So we ran to the kitchen. There was a pan on the stove that was engulfed in flames. For a few seconds we stood there, freaking out, not knowing what to do. I started screaming for salt. “SALT, SALT, WHERE’S THE SALT” as I opened cabinets and closets. I don’t know why I was yelling for salt, but I’m pretty sure I confused it with sand. Then I filled a cup of water and stood there, then remembered water on a grease fire was no bueno. My other roommate ran and got the fire extinguisher. But by that time, the cabinets above the stove were on fire, along with everything around the stove. As soon as he ran back into the kitchen, the sprinklers kicked on. My fearless RA, who was in his room with the door shut, came crawling out on his hands and knees while we stood around the stove. I would later laugh for hours about this.

We ran outside.

Thinking it was another fire alarm, the dorm evacuated slowly. My other roommate, who was in our apartment, came out soaked. He had fallen asleep and we had left him for dead. All the SALT screaming did not wake him.

We sat on the hill facing my dorm (East 4) and watched the water run out of our apartment down the back stairs. I laughed so hard. At that time in my life I found entertainment in the most horrible situations. “This will make a great story.” I thought. Others did not feel the same.

We called LUPD and the fire department. It took them 45 minutes to get there. By that time, our apartment, and the one below it were completely ruined by the water. They made us go, get our stuff, and put it in our cars.

We were all relocated. Everyone stayed together except for me. I was put in a dorm with people I didn’t know with 5 weeks of school left. With all of my belongings in my car, my new RA wrote me up the next day for skipping convocation. We exchanged words.

Later we would find out that it was $26,000 worth in damage. They tried to charge my roommate, but no one knew who started the fire so they couldn’t make him pay. As a memento of that day, I ripped a knob off the stove after they pulled it out of the apartment, and put it on my dashboard. It’s disgusting.

Then me and my girlfriend broke up. Awesome year guys, awesome.

How to: Attend a Black Dance Party

It’s been a year since I attended my first black dance party. Did I know it was a black dance party? No. Kyle, how can you say it was a black dance party? There were 4 white guys. Me, the two guys I came with, and one other white guy.

It took place in a shopping center downtown at a restaurant. Very random. Naturally I blended in like a chameleon. I strolled to the dance floor.

Dancing is funny. Based on my research, black people dance in large groups. Unfortunately, I was not in one of their groups. I tried, but that got awkward real fast. I danced by myself. Imagine a curly blonde fro in the midst of real fros. I was home. I felt the eyes of people around me. Eyes that told of disbelief, amazement and jealousy. “Why Lance, I am rather intrigued by the Caucasian- American on the dance floor. He exudes charisma, but yet remains suave and debonair as a fine young gentleman of yesteryear.” I heard a black man say to his friend.

A ruckus breaks out in the back. I just keep dancing. The music stops. The DJ makes an announcement for everyone to “be cool.” The music plays. The ruckus turns into a scuffle. “What’s with all the hubbub?” I says. The owner told everyone to go home, and that the cops were on their way. The ruckus in the back turned into a brawl that involved a lot of people. Everyone ran, and was screaming. I grabbed my one white girl friend, and all of us got outside. Suddenly everyone pours out of the doors, and there’s a fist fight. The cops pull in, everyone is still screaming and running to their cars.Rumors of guns and knives. I don’t know, but I got the heck out of dodge. Cops swarmed, I yelled “get in the car, get in the car.” And we drove home.

I was sad. I just wanted to dance. I considered doing an interpretive dance that would bring tears and peace to those in the room. They would have loved it. Instead…that did not happen. The end.

shoutout bill.

How to: Save a Life and Eat Ice Cream

My friends were down at my college last year visiting. You know, just visiting. There is an ice cream shop called Mountain Frost Creamery. We went there. We felt as young children getting ready to embark on a maiden voyage- an ice-creamy adventure that would result in a debilitating sugar crash.

We walked in. Wide eyed. “Oh boy, oh boy!!” my friend Eric said. We picked out what we wanted and looked around. There was no one working. We became enraged. We were those people. The ones that rang the bell. No answer. As my angry friend Eric began preparations to burn down the store, I said, “Nay, Eric. Hold thy temper as a man with strong hands.” No, I didn’t say that.

My friend Phil began to walk behind the counter, then looked at me. He said, “guys, come look. She’s laying on the ground.” Oh crap. I walked back there, and sure enough there was a girl lying on the ground. She had contorted her body to create one terrifying angle. I slowly approached and asked her if she was okay. In retrospect, that was a stupid question. She peaked through the hair that was covering her face, kind of like those girls from Japanese horror movies.

She said her stomach hurt. Thinking we were doctors, we diagnosed her with appendicitis. We called her boss, then we called 911. Joe and Phil put her in a chair and stopped her from falling over multiple times. “Chivalry is not dead my lady” said Phil.

I marveled at the gelato.

As a concerned patron of this fine ice cream establishment, I knew my duty. Hannah and I immediately grabbed aprons, and put them on. We ventured to the ice cream counter and began to heavily sample the ice cream. For quality control of course. Just then a co-worker showed up. My friends said Kyle he’s here, take it off. Fortunately, the apron got knotted up, and I had to shimmy it down off my feet. I kicked it off, and we walked in front of the counter.

Expecting a free ice cream, we ordered. We received 20 percent off. Once again, heroism goes unnoticed. It’s the price we pay. I can’t wait to see her again, and tell her how we saved her life. Surely there will be parade of epic proportions on the streets at high noon. Shriners included.

Here’s some pics of the action

How to Sell Yourself For Money

Today was fun. I was sitting at my computer wondering where I was going to make some money, because Lynchburg has decided not to hire college students. Thanks. I decided to take a nap.

While laying there, I realized that I could make money AND take a nap at the same time.

I went to give plasma.

I have never given plasma. I called to find out where the clinic was and said, "you cant be serious." It was in the shadiest shopping center in town, and was next to a bowling alley.

I walked in.

It was packed with people. All sorts of people. They did a bunch of tests on me to make sure I didn't have AIDS, and other bad things in me. I had to read so many release forms, that I began to think I had AIDS, along with several other diseases.

The nurse asked me questions.

She said the questions so fast that I didn't really have time to think about what she was saying. So i just kept saying "no." That seemed to be the answer she was looking for.

I walked back into a room. A large room with about 50 reclined chairs full of people. It looked crazy. I sat down and they told me some more information really fast, and the machine started going. I was told if a red light came on, that it meant my blood stopped flowing. They told me to raise my hand. I wasnt sure I would be alive if my blood stopped flowing.

In walked a rather attractive girl. She had a liberty shirt on. She sat down the aisle from me. We would make awkward eye contact because we had no choice. When you sit in a chair for four hours, you are bound to look at the people around you.

My plasma bottle was half full. Im so optimistic.

Plasma girl. That was her name. Almost positive.

I started seeing in quadruple vision. There were several points where I was cold and hot at the same time and I could feel the blood being pumped back into my body. My feet went numb.

After it was over, I collected my handsome reward.

I will go back Tuesday.