Spring 2010: Driving along A1A in the sleeper, bullshitting about something I cannot remember, I looked over just in time to watch this dude jump from the second floor of Beachplace (which is really a third floor height). I looked over just in time to watch his painful landing. Dude tried to get up…. and couldn’t. Why couldn’t he? Not because he was drunk (or not JUST because he was drunk), but because his leg was, in fact, broken.
How do I know it was broken? Because it was dangling. Fucking swinging back and forth. From fucking mid-shin. And the dude TRIED TO GET UP! That is a whole new level of drunkedness/stupid.
Somehow this dude had nough adrenalin to get up and hop, on one leg, across A1A and right over the wall right into the sand. With his broken leg flopping about. That’s a bad trip right there.
I wish I didn’t have to choose between faith and love, God and family, beliefs and blood ties. I still can’t believe I had the courage to tell my Dad that I no longer believe in what he taught me. I thought he would be shocked, but he wasn’t. All the same. he reiterated his belief that only his faith is right, and there is nothing outside of it. I asked him: “Your religion encourages people to leave their old religions and family traditions in favor of this one, but if anyone from within decides they want to believe something else… that simply isn’t tolerated. That is a double standard”. He had nothing to say to that.
More words were exchanged, none which I care to share at this moment, but it felt so good to not feel like a leper for once. Their doctrine must be changing from within, because a few years ago, a simple hello to a disfellowshipped person was forbidden. Such is the reality for an ex-Jehovah’s Witness.