My feet hurt.
They ache and I feel like I'm walking on rocks.
Fortunately, my feet are in the hands of Dr. Rock Positano, the single best foot doctor in the world. He told me to ice my feet for 20 minutes, twice a day. When I came home and reported this to my wife, the beautiful Judy Licht, she said, "Listen to Dr. Rock, and for God's sake don't do the idiot thing you did that time when you almost killed yourself."
"It was an accident. And it was 15 years ago. Don't you ever forget?" I protested. "Do you always have to bring up every stupid thing I do?" Then I went back and re-read the column I wrote about the incident at the time and I have to admit, left to my own devices, I can do some pretty stupid things.
I almost died the most embarrassing death imaginable. . .
At first I was calm. I actually started to laugh at the ridiculousness of my predicament. But slowly, ever so slowly, I began to panic. At one point I tried to struggle and lash out with my arms. But then breathing clearly became a problem and I started to think, this could be the end. What an incredibly stupid way to go.
How would my family explain it? The obituary was going to be a disaster.
It all started when I had a pain in my knee while I was playing tennis. My wife, the beautiful Judy Licht, noticed me hobbling after the game.
"Why don't you take a nice hot bath? It'll make you feel so much better," Judy said. So at 5 PM, fresh from having lost a small fortune betting on college football, I ran a bath.
First thing I noticed was a giant carton of CVS Epsom salts resting next to the bathtub. The directions called for a cup of salts. Since I love excess, if one cup was good, six cups would be better. I poured the entire carton into the hot water.
Now I must confess I love bubble baths so I found this bottle of Nature's Way almond honey bubble bath and, ignoring the directions for two capfuls, I poured the entire bottle into the bath. Then I noticed a half-full bottle of bubble-gum-pink raspberry-kiwi fragrance bubble bath. I added it. I then spotted a bottle of bubble bath, unopened, with this nifty picture of a lemon. Showing unusual restraint, I only added half of this bottle to the bath.
Now came the big mistake. I found this plastic bag filled with lavender bath oil beads. I tossed in half the bag and, finally, as the piece de resistance, I emptied a three-ounce bottle of orange bath oil into the mess. I climbed into the bath.
The bubbles were pretty high.
Absentmindedly I reached over and turned the Jacuzzi jets on. What a mistake. Within 10 seconds the bubbles were over my head. "I'll just sit up," I thought. Wrong! The bath oil and oil beads had made the tub incredibly slippery. Instead of sitting up, I slipped below the water with only my eyes above the water line. That's when the suds, which had reached over six feet high and were slowly covering a good portion of the bathroom, came cascading down on my face, covering me.
That's when I started to panic. The more I squirmed, the more I slipped into the water. The bubbles were in my nose and mouth and I couldn't reach far enough to turn off the Jacuzzi. "Oh my God," I thought, "I'm going to be smothered to death by these bubbles."
What a humiliating way to die. Death by frigging bubble bath.
I then decided to try to save myself by turning over and trying to stand up. I made it over but I couldn't stand. So I started to crawl under the bubbles, holding my breath because I was choking and coughing. I made it to the end and reached out to where I remembered a towel rack used to be. The rack, of course, was covered in bubbles.
I gripped it and pulled myself up. I climbed out of the tub. The entire bathroom was filled with bubbles, touching the ceiling. I could not find the door and for a second I imagined the bubbles going into the wall sockets and that I would suddenly be the first person in history electrocuted by bubbles.
I finally found the doorknob, turned it, and Judy couldn't believe her eyes. I had turned into Bubble Man, a monster covered from head to toe with bubbles. I fell out of the bathroom and collapsed to the floor laughing hysterically.
When I told my family of my near-death experience, they took one look at the bathroom, which was in shambles. "We would not have been able to have a funeral for you, because we would not have been able to stop laughing," said Judy.
My son JT said nothing. I could read his mind: "Why did I wind up with such a jerk for a father?" My daughter Jessie summed it up. "If you had died by being smothered by bubbles I don't know if I could ever face my friends again."
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