Apparently if you do a hiccup/burp thing while swallowing the last of your coffee, it will fuck you up and make you unable to breathe. Things will narrow and your brain will be a dick in that moment where you start to see spots and remind you that you have a wife you love and a baby that you want to see grow up.

If you’re lucky like I was this past Saturday, you’ll have a badass sitting 2 spots away named John Paul Giese to remain calm and give you the manliest hug of all time to force air and coffee to start flowing they way they are supposed too. Air will fill your lungs, the spots will go away, and you will keep on living.

Sarge never wants recognition for the things he does, it’s one of the many reasons I love him, but he deserves some for keeping me breathing. (And If I had died on ride day, I think A-train would have killed me so technically you saved me twice.)

Thank you my brother.