On one occasion that I almost blundered into my untimely demise I can place the blame on my childhood obsession with swashbuckling & the Pirates of the Caribbean ride. Having a weird luck has kept me from ever being arrested or seriously injured by acts of peril. My Grim would be a different Reaper that comes specifically for dimwitted souls. Instead of a robe & scythe, this one wears a fool’s cap & carries just enough rope to hang oneself with.

A first date with someone isn’t generally considered the perfect time to try & cheat death, but my new possible-girlfriend came up with a unique plan I couldn’t resist. I’d never been taken out-of-state for a date before, let alone a first one. Though we were just going across the border into Oregon, it had an air of the exotic. Apparently the way to my heart is impromptu travel. Overt flattery makes me wary, but load me into a vehicle & take me away & I’m smitten. I might just be the perfect candidate for Stockholm Syndrome.

It was a freak occurrence that I actually went to Mary’s party in a tiny house behind James’ in the Eastlake neighborhood. This took place mere weeks before my willing abduction. Not being much of a party person, I shudder at the thought of more than just a few people in one place. I adored my friend Mary, a sweet, warm, & quirky-humored individual that had urged me to make an appearance. I wasn’t planning on staying past my usual 30 mins. That was my threshold for crowds. It’s only gotten steadily lower over the years. Sometimes just one person is too much, even if that person is only me. The length of time I stayed that night was unprecedented. Someone had blithely breezed past my ‘stay away’ aura & got me laughing.

Kim & I were an odd match disposition-wise. She– extroverted, animated, & smart. Me– an inveterate loner that eschews attention. One would think I’d dress more bland to achieve those ends. Alas, I hoped I could render myself invisible by will alone. To my shocked dismay Kim parked herself across from me in Mary’s breakfast nook (where I was hiding) & started conversing! My panic gradually morphed from ‘who does she think she is?’ into ‘who does she think I am?’ My carefully curated aloofness didn’t work on her. I wasn’t prepared for Kim’s magic: a fast mouth, just edgy enough. Refreshingly off-the-cuff. Dammit!

I find out she is as much of a bookworm as myself. We had more in common than just being avid readers though. It’s fair to say we were both Trouble. These days the most dangerous thing I do is climb up & down from my sleeping loft. I don’t regret having a checkered past; its telling makes others cringe in a satisfying way. Kim & I probably would’ve benefited from taking up an extreme sport or doing stunt work, if we’d been the least inclined to athleticism. Our busy minds & restlessness made for risk-taking behaviors. This was our meet-cute.

Somewhere just across the Oregon border is the town of Astoria. We found a typical roadside motel, amazingly not gross. Nearby, within walking distance, was some body of water. I don’t know what water, but it wasn’t the ocean beach. More like a river mouth or inlet of some kind. Geography was not foremost on my mind. Plus I can’t swim. I’m slightly terrified of water. I don’t mind looking at it scenically from a distance, but there’s no desire for me to get down there & wade. Living now on a peninsula makes me sometimes fixate on the fact that I’m surrounded by water on 3 sides. I’m not even going to mention islands.

We check-into this motel. Then we take drugs. Unbelievable, I know. Our grand adventure started with a walk. Towards the water. There was a kind of dock, I think. At the end of it was the tip of a ship run aground. Just poking up out of the water at an angle, caution signs all around. It was so close. A short leap & some hoisting of oneself up would be all it took to climb aboard. This was a thing anyone even totally sober would look at & go ‘whoa!’

It was full-on night at this point. We didn’t have flashlights on us. The none-too-ample streetlights & maybe the moon were the sole illumination, yet we could still clearly read the KEEP OFFs. The same warnings we were going to ignore. All while flying high. So high that it gave me only momentary pause. Was this too outrageous to contemplate? Or too outrageous to pass up? I’m sure neither of us were in a state to make that distinction. So we went with the latter.

Kim grew up with an in-ground pool in her backyard, was an excellent swimmer. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you drown,” she said so reassuringly. Why this seemed reasonable to my phobic mind I can’t begin to fathom. I do know that the budding relationship, the mystery of a shipwreck, & the dire warnings sparked a thrill.

I was no stranger to trespassing for a lark. Usually it was abandoned buildings or places that were not staffed at night. Not so much B&E as finding access due to someone’s negligence. An unlatched loading bay door, a gaping window, nothing occupied. The idea was urban exploration. I wasn’t interested in theft or vandalism. Merely a spooky pastime. So of course I was game, water or no.

‘How does a modern ship this size just crash? Is this a military vessel? Why wasn’t it towed away, or whatever they do with shipwrecks now?’ All these questions were bouncing around in my head as I was simultaneously becoming more charmed by my partner-in-crime. Among the questions about the ship there was this one intense question: Who is this person I’m with? & these eclipsed the single-most pertinent question I should’ve been asking: What if the tide comes in & we get stranded?

Up on the tilted ship we climbed. We crawled around at first because it was hard to walk upright at that angle. We explored inside the cabin or whatever, climbed up the leaning stairs to a higher level. Poked around in corners, picked up the odd thing here & there. At one point we were lying on the deck laughing at how absurd this was, watching the sky. I have no idea how long we goofed around on that shipwreck before our tour took us to a door. I reached to open it before I noticed the sign staring me in the face. A highly recognizable symbol: the yellow triangle with the black Angel of Death image (that’s what it looks like to me). We came aware to the DANGER: RADIOACTIVE! signs a-plenty that we’d missed before. Thinking about it now, those were probably dummy signs to keep people off the wreck. Or I would hope so.

Our adventure drew to a quick close. No matter how daring we were, mutation was a step too far.