There are many significant points in a person’s life; The day your first child is born…being proposed to…the first time you ever tasted Nips Nacho Cheesier Flavor…all these poignant life-changing moments come to mind. For me, a moment that will forever stand out in history as bringing both tears and laughter to my face is:
The time I almost died at the Jersey Shore.
Now for the three other ladies who were with me on this moment, they might read that line above and think I am EXAGGERATING. Well , let me tell you one thing, I do not exaggerate…yes I may wave my arms around and sometimes loudly proclaim myself to be the Queen of England…so lying yes…exaggeration, no.
This is how my moment of almost-death on the Jersey Shore went down:
My lady friends and I were partying at a place known to some as ‘D’Jais’, but to me , it is known as ‘The Gates of Heaven’. At D’Jais every meathead, overly tanned, steroid using, personal trainer could be seen surrounding the perimeter of the club. It was as though Jesus was standing right there, welcoming me into the gate of serenity and light. White Diesel T-Shirts and stone-washed Armani jeans covered every arm-hair-shaven boy around. As we exited the club that night, we made the first left we could down a pathway we presumed was the route back to our hotel. Turns out it was the route to death. (Well almost-death, but it was a damn un-well-constructed route at that, someone needs to start paving that shit).
We were walking for about fifteen minutes or so, when suddenly the groups of people heading home down the same path all started to disappear. And one by one the beach homes grew fewer and farther between and went from three-story white shudders, to one-story I-have-no-shudder. As the four of us walked into the dark, summer night, the sounds of the cars grew distance and we approached a huge grass area with an old fence.
As we were crossing over the old fence I proclaimed, “Where the fuck are we?”
“Just let’s start walking to the right, I think our hotel is to the right somewhere.” One of the girls said.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, speeding down the street beyond the fence was the worst thing I have seen in all my years of living….a yellow…1993…Pontiac 4-door...with white trim.
This is when I about knew my life was over.
The worst part about thinking you are going to die on the Jersey Shore is wondering if they will have to bury you there. Will the makeup lady cover my corpse in thick bronzer and hairspray? Will three meatheads who are weekend bouncers have to carry my casket? Will they lay me out in the shore’s finest gold and silver bikini complete with press on nails and a fake Gucci bag nail-glued to my right hand? Will the service consists of a lot of, “Yo yo yo, she was chillin” remembrances? Will the exiting song be the extended remix of ‘Pump It up’?
All these questions ran through my mind. So I did what any rational girl from New England would do. I grabbed ahold tight of my clinky clink bracelet and started booking it down the street, wobbling all the way in my Aldo pink teasers.
Then I heard it ... a voice, from the distance.
It was calling out, “Kim…Kim look to your right, do you see it... look to the right…and you will see the light!”
I turned my head, looked up and asked, “Jesus?...Is that you Jesus?”
A moment of silence.
Then I heard it..a female voice….Jesus was a woman?
“No asshole, it’s me ..Ellen, I’m walking right behind you, you whore…fucking look to your right, there is our hotel sign, see it?”
I looked up, and there it was. The Belmar Inn. Glowing from a distance. Suddenly it was as though I could feel a huge tanning-light bulb beaming down on me. And I knew we had been truly saved that night by the Jersey Shore Gods.And now every time I wake up on a summer morning, about to hit the beach, I think of the New Jersey Shore God’s and how they saved me, and to thank them, I stand, look at myself in the mirror for an extra ten more minutes then normal, then spray-tan the shit out of my legs until I feel they are satisfied with my offering.