More Than Flashing Lights And Sound

(I started this piece back in September, but due to my emotional connection to this piece, it took me a little time to finish)

November 27, 1980 – September 19, 2001.

Nine years ago I lost my best friend – Alexander Randolph Spotts.

Around two in the morning, Alex decided to head home from a mutual friend’s house. He made a bad decision. He drove drunk. While on Devonshire Heights Road, he lost control of his Chevrolet Cavalier and slammed into a tree. The engine from his car was pushed up onto Alex’s chest where he slowly bled to death. He was pronounced dead at 4:58 A.M., dying less than a mile from my parents’ house. It is unknown if he was awake or unconscious during the hours the engine was resting upon my friend.

A few weeks before he died, Alex called with two tickets to see Stone Temple Pilots. Throughout high school, I rarely went to a show without him. This time I passed because I made the stupid mistake of going out on date with a really shitty girl. It was a completely forgettable person, and I say that because I honestly to this day couldn’t tell you her name.

I vividly remember the moment I found out about Alex. It was junior year of college. I was living in St. Theresa Court, which was at that point in La Salle’s history, the most “remote” part of campus. Around eight-thirty at night, I decided to call my good friend Suzanne to ask if she wanted to join me for lunch the following day. (Sue went to high school with me, so she knew Alex. She joined me at LSU, where I convinced her to join the rowing team. You’re welcome!)

Anyway, I called… When she realized it was me, she asked, “Oh hey, are you calling about Alex dying?”

“Excuse me?” I replied.

“Oh, you didn’t kno…” she trailed off.

I was walking out of the kitchen, where I froze mid-step. I was speechless. I lost all sense and went numb all over. I almost dropped the phone. I didn’t believe her. I spent the next hour calling every one I could think of to find out if it was true. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. It was.

As if the news and stories surrounding the passing of my friend wasn’t enough, when I got ahold of one of my best girlfriend’s Jenna (who was also a dear friend of Alex), I discovered her mom had passed away the same day. She went into the hospital for dehydration where she mysteriously passed away when her lungs willed with blood and she drowned.

I lost my best friend and my best friend’s mom the same night.

I spent the remainder of the night sitting on the couch, clutching my legs sitting upright in the fetal position. A 3 Doors Down concert was playing on MTV (I was in shock). Eventually I tried to get some sleep, but it was pointless. I laid on staring at the bunk bed above me, fighting off tears, trying to think of anything besides what had transpired that evening.

Not to push off any of what happened with Jenna’s mom, but I definitely felt the affects of Alex’s passing much more. In fact, nine years later, I still get upset each year as his anniversary begins to roll around. I'm still not over his death. I can't seem to forgive myself for missing out on that last chance to spend time with him.

Alex was an amazing friend because we always brought out the best in each other. He was the instigator; he was the spontaneous one and often made me do things very uncharacteristic of myself. (We used to get our folks to call us both in sick on the same day, and then when they left for work, we'd ride our bikes to the music store.) In his memory, each year on his anniversary I try to do something great, something which breaks the monotony of my life, something inspiring because he’s not with me to experience it himself. I also like to spend this time with someone, who is extremely important to me. I want them know how important they are to me; I would never want to miss out on the opportunity to tell those vital people the affect they have on me and my life.

I’m a lucky guy. I have a fuck ton of amazing friends in my life, and I always try to do right by them. My friends come first, and they always will.

Late night, brakes lock, hear the tires squeal… Red light, can't stop so I spin the wheel… My world goes black before I feel an angel steal me from the greedy jaws of death and chance, and pull me in with steady hands…