As I regaled my story of "that one time I almost died" to pal, Erin, the fright and panic in my voice, I mean, it was evident.
This was a TRAGIC story.
Erin is getting married Saturday. It is my duty to BE THERE and stand up in that wedding. The happiness of her lifelong wedded bliss to her fiance depends on my standing before the altar with the other ladies, representing our favorite bride. And this, friends, is clearly apparent in her response to my terrifying tale of torn esophaguses:
"If you DIE, I will be SO pissed."
You see? The things I do for my friends. Such as not dying, and all.