The best part of being killed by a nuclear bomb at close range is that it is quick. And I mean, like, Band-Aid-pull before the pain kicks in quick.

You know how everyone says that it’s best to pull off a Band-Aid fast, but when you try it hurts like hell? Next time you get a chance, try really focusing on the process. When you first pull it off, if you are fast enough, it’s just a sense of pressure for a millisecond before the pain kicks in. Almost enough for your brain to be fooled into thinking everything is fine before ZAP oh-my-god-I-pulled-out-all-the-hair-damn-that-hurts!

So that is kind of what it felt like when the bomb went off, except I guess I was vaporized before the pain had a chance to really kick in. A sense of pressure all over my body, maybe a mild pinch at most, and then blank white nothingness. Why white instead of black? Well… let’s get to that in a minute.

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Several weeks ago I bought tickets for a trip with a friend of mine, Mark. Oh right, that reminds me, my name is Alex, nice to meet you.

Anyway, Mark is one of my oldest friends, and also probably the person I get along with best in the world. I don’t know if I can say I love him more than anyone else, as I am a young father with an amazing daughter from a previous relationship, but he’s probably a close second. Platonic love, mind you, don’t get any dumb ideas. In fact, when we were younger our favorite past time was being each other’s wingmen, going out and trying to pick up as many girls as we could!

Life has settled down slightly since then... which is probably why a trip to Ibiza, Spain sounded like such an amazing idea. Get into trouble like when we were teenagers, things like that. I won’t go into great detail, but we both ended up having the time of our lives. What happens in Ibiza, stays in Ibiza.

Now, I don’t want you to get the wrong impression – we are far from cool. In fact, we both love Anime, Roleplaying Games, Manga, you name it. I even had a hard time with women until later on in life – High school virgin, that’s me! Thing’s didn’t start turning around until my mid 20’s, but that’s a different story.

Ok, back to the interesting parts. The trip to Ibiza went great, but we never made it home. It was pretty damn scary there near the end, but boy was I glad I didn’t bring my daughter with me on this trip (not that we would have anyway…. Mmmm Ibiza…).

It turns out that terrorists of some type had decided to make a big statement using the plane we were on. I never found out what they wanted, and I won’t get into what race they were, but boy did they have a big hate on for America. I won’t go into too much detail, because this story isn’t supposed to be about my death – it’s about my (new) life.

So, here goes the death scene…

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The airplane wasn’t one of the newest models, probably just a 747 or something, but the upholstery was nice and the stewardesses were hot. I was tired as heck, and definitely hungover. Mark, if anything, was in worse shape than me. We had just gotten off of our connecting flight from Ibiza to Madrid, and we were now on the second of three airplanes on our trip. This one was from Madrid to New York, and from there another flight home.

“Oh man, I feel like crap.” Mark said to me with a tired smirk.

I huffed my agreement. “So how long is this flight again?” I asked him.

“Uhhh. Eight hours or something to New York, then another eight back home. I’m just gonna sleep, that cool?” He said, eyeing one of the stewardesses as she ushered us off the ramp and onto the airplane.

“Yeah, same.”

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Several hours later I was woken up by a loud noise, even though I had my earbuds in and the music up super loud. Shortly afterward I heard screaming or something, drowning out my music as I quickly tore off my headphones, looking around with my heart beating wildly. I saw three people with what looked like some kind of assault rifle, two women and a man, yelling at the crowd in what I think was Spanish.

I froze. My blood went cold and I could hardly breathe, let alone move. Suddenly I saw a man jump out of his seat and rush towards one of the women, only to be shot down by one of the people with guns. Terrorists? For some reason none of the bullets punctured a hole in the aircraft, but I wasn’t even thinking about that then. Later on, Mark told me they were probably ceramic frangible rounds that break up, but I don’t know anything about stuff like that. Mark was always the gun nut in our duo.

No way was I going to do something like that. Hell, I was proud as heck that I hadn’t already wet my pants! I looked over at Mark, who was still asleep with his fucking 500$ sound-canceling headphones wrapped around his head. Another few minutes went by, black spots floating in front of my vision as my blood pressure dropped (it’s a condition I have when stressed). The screaming had stopped as the terrorists continued yelling, having executed another two passengers who wouldn’t shut up.

I reached over and poked Mark with a trembling hand, and he groggily looked at me, reaching up to take off his headphones. “What’s up?” He asked as I shook my head at him, wishing him to keep quiet. Suddenly one of the female terrorists switched to accented English.

“Anybody who knows Electrics, Engineer or Electrician!” She shouted out.

I was stunned, but before I could do anything Mark suddenly raised his hand before looking over. “Yeah, Alex is an….. oh FUCK!”

I suppose this is a good time to mention my job. Yep, you guessed it: Electrician. Well, crap in a hat…

At this point I could hardly breathe, let alone speak, as a stunned Mark tried to wrap his head around the situation, his (forgotten) hand still raised above his head.

Moments later, the male terrorist walked up to us, saying something we didn’t understand.

“Go with him.” Shouted the woman, scanning the crowd for more trouble. These people were pros, not that I noticed at the time.