In a recent post, I believe I mentioned something about my sleep patterns; maybe not, but they’re strange for someone not 3 or 85 years old.
Most nights, I tend to go to bed by 8 PM and get up at 6 AM. But not without waking up at least once during the night around 3 AM with the complete inability to fall back to sleep without lots of numerical mind games and violently shaking my foot like I just snorted a 200-yard line of blow. And that is exactly what happened last night, but worse.
I got up to drain my bladder at 3 and was so tired I nearly fell asleep standing up whilst doing so. I got back into bed, pulled the covers up, and thought, “damn, I’m so tired, no need to worry about stupid mind games tonight.”
And then I thought of the Civil Air Patrol; Oh, for fuck’s sake!!!
Step One
Stop thinking, stop thinking, stop thinking! Listen to the fan, and concentrate on the hum of the fan.
Step One, Part II
Oh no, that didn’t work; shit, here it comes, HOLD ON, FUCK!
WHAT THE HELL IS THE CIVIL AIR PATROL????
WHY WERE THEY IN PARADES I WENT TO AS A KID IN THE 80s?
WHY DID THEY DRESS LIKE COSPLAY BORDER PATROL AGENTS?
WHY DID THEY PULL A WAGON WITH A GIANT RADIO IN IT?
WHY DID THEY ALL SEEM TO WEAR TRANSITION LENS GLASSES?
DO THEY GET LAID? SURELY NOT!
ARE THEY LOOKING FOR PLANE CRASHES?
ARE THAT MANY PLANES CRASHING THAT WE NEED A PATROL?
And with that, the next hour of my night was not only consumed with those thoughts, but because Jason gotta Jason, it morphed into me (yes, me) developing a new show for Netflix (or overpriced streaming service of your choice) about the Civil Air Patrol.
The show would be set in the early 80s and be called Civil 412. 412 was the area code for my part of Westmoreland County when I was growing up, it’s now 724, but we’re keeping this shit real.
I thought about characters, love interests (or lack thereof), and potential “cases” they would crack with their CB radios, oversized antennas, and hand-me-down Viet Nam-era combat boots with ill-fitting army fatigues tucked into them.
Step Two (the inner dialogue with my brain)
Dude, why are you thinking about this? You weren’t in the Civil Air Patrol! You don’t really even know what exactly it is they do; go to sleep! That was over 40 years ago!
But why did they wear—SHHH!!! Listen to the fan.
You know the fan sounds like an airplane, and if that plane crashes, you know who will be on the scene, right?
Don’t say it.
Right??
NO! NO! FUCK OFF!
C’mon, who would be on the scene??
Yes, yes, I know, gahdamn Civil 412!!!!!!! FUCK!!!!!
There we go, J; now, let’s think of some groovy theme music!!
I hate you.
Step Three: Change the subject
I toss, I turn, I try to get potential male leads for the show out of my head, and I think about something else; anything else will help. Think J, think.
Is your hair thinning more on one side of your head than the other? You should pick up some Minoxidil.
I hate you.
Good morning, and happy fucking Monday. I hope you slept well.
Later.