Here I am (eventually) pouring a cooler of ice water on my dad’s head for a good cause. Happy to help!
A few months ago I completed the Winter Challenge that was going around. As far as I know, this wasn’t meant to raise awareness for anything other than the questionable IQ of those who participated. We were literally running into frigid ocean waters in the middle of winter for no other reason than to not look like a wimp in front of our friends.
A couple of days after dunking myself in the Pacific Ocean off Willows Beach, I came down with the worst flu I’ve had in years. I don’t know if the two events were related, but the timing was awfully suspicious. I was bed-ridden for a good four or five days. It was an accomplishment if I could muster the strength to move from the bed to the couch to watch Freaks & Geeks. It was an awful experience.
The first really bad day, I went to the walk-in clinic down the street. I wanted to make sure it wasn’t anything more serious like pneumonia. The doctor was an old burly man with skin like sandpaper. I was so contagious at the time that he actually got mad at me for being in his vicinity, and ordered me to go home immediately.
When I mentioned that two days prior I had run into the ocean for no good reason, he looked at me cock-eyed and said “Why? That’s MAD! Go home, sleep as much as possible, and when you’re awake, just think about the fact that you’re an idiot.”
That wasn’t his last bit of wisdom, however, as just as I was about to leave, he says with the casualness of an old doctor on the verge of retirement, “I like to drink whiskey when I’m sick.”