Steven Seagal saved my life.
April 18, 2004
It was a lazy summer Saturday and I was bass fishing with Cousin Randy at the train bridge
over the Tittabawasee. The sun was shining, the birds were singing and we had a
case and a half of Bud with no work the next day. In other words it was a great
day to be fishing whether or not the fish were biting, which they weren't.
Now, Randy's not the sharpest tool in the shed. In fact, if he knows shit from
shinola, I'll sell my Chevy and drive a Ford till the day the Good Lord takes me
home. I'd promised Randy's sister that I'd keep an eye on him that weekend. She had
another new boyfriend, and we both thought it best that he not be left alone
again. You see, Randy was in a fragile state of mind due to his recent "adventure" at
Cedar Point Amusement Park
Remind me to tell you that story some time, or better yet, ask Randy about it the
next time you see him. How one human being could eat so many corn dogs, I'll
So anyway, Randy and I, we're fishing. I'd not gotten so much as a nibble all day,
but didn't mind a bit. Randy hadn't caught anything either, but he would jump out
of his seat every 15 god damned minutes screaming like he'd hooked Moby fucking
Dick. Each and every time it was either the river's current or a log. Each time
I hoped it was just the current, because if he'd snagged another log, it meant that
I'd have to reel in my line while I re-rigged his.
Well, after the fourth time he'd snapped his damn line on a tree branch, I was more
than a little tired of it. By this time, I was packing a six or seven Bud buzz, so
my patience ran thin. I barked at poor Randy and told him to go get my spare tackle
box out of the truck while I re-rigged his line. Truth was, I had plenty of tackle
in my vest. I just wanted him the hell away from me for a spell. Old Randy made
for the truck with his tail between his legs. It was a good quarter mile from the
bridge back to the parking lot, so I knew I had a few minutes of peace.
I dipped into my vest and pulled out another swivel and treble hook to start fixing
Randy's line. I'd just finished the Palomar knot when I realized that I'd forgotten
to pull my own line out of the water. I looked over just in time to see the tip
of my pole dip. I'd finally hooked one! My first thought was that this son bitch
fish was going to drag my whole rig into the Tittabawasee. I don't know if you're
familiar, but those are some waters I wouldn't want to chase anything into.
My buddy Jack once
pulled a two headed carp out of that river - the fucker had two heads! That's ok
for eating, not so much for swimming, if you catch my drift.
Must have been the beers, because I lunged for my pole with a little too much gas
and fell head first off the train bridge! It was a good 50 foot drop -- I thought
for sure I was a dead man. Now, I'd love to tell you that my life
flashed before my eyes and I realized that I should have spent more
time with my kids and less drinking with Randy or some zen bullshit like
that. But the truth is that I was half drunk and the best I could come up with
was "FUCK!" I really meant it, though.
Luckily, I hit the water feet first, so nothing vital was broken, but the current caught
and started to drag me downstream. I struggled for the surface, but my fishing vest
was full of split shots and held me under. If I wasn't as fucked as a virgin on
prom night! After a hundred yards or so my vest caught on something and I stopped
moving downstream. One of the treble hooks on my vest had sunk into what looked
like a very large, raw roaster chicken. It was then that I noticed the rope, the
cinder block and the human foot.
Holy fucking shit, I was drowning and the last thing I would ever see was a rotting
God damned corpse!
Well, I sure enough panicked at this point. I ain't afraid to say it. Who
fucking wouldn't? I tried to scream and water started to fill my lungs. Just as everything
started to fade to black, someone grabbed me around the chest from behind and pulled
me to the surface. I sputtered for air as my rescuer swam me to the riverbank. I
It took me a minute or so to collect my head. The next thing I really remember is
lying there in the mud looking up and my savior. I'll be damned if it wasn't Steven
Seagal standing there, bathed in white light. His arms were folded across his chest
and he was smiling that Steven Seagal smile down at me, his pony tail silhouetted
in the pale sunlight. I just about lost my shit right then and there, boy!
Before I could even thank him for saving my life, his eyes narrowed a bit and he
said to me, "what did you see?"
What did I see? What the fuck? I'd read on the internet once that he was the tulku
(that means reincarnation) of Yudra Nyingpo the treasure revealer, so I thought maybe he was talking
some of that faggy Buddhist shit. Then I remembered the body.
It all came together in a flash - the body, Steven Seagal, Steven Seagal, the body.
The very same action star that had just saved my life had dumped that corpse in the
river! He was asking if I had seen it! Luckily, the cold water had pretty much
killed my beer buz. I remembered that this man was once a CIA hitman and liked
to break bones in his movies (That was kind of his trademark. Pretty sweet.). So
I told him direct that I hadn't seen anything at all. No sir, not a thing.
He just sort of nodded, squinting at me. Then he picked me up, threw me over his
shoulder like a sack and carried to me his car. I was pretty surprised that
a big time movie star like him drove a Ford, but I was in no shape to talk cars at
that point. Mister Seagal drove me to Saint Luke's Hospital and left me at the
emergency room entrance. The last thing he ever said to me was "this never happened."
To make a long story short, the doctors patched me up and I never spoke of this
again until now. Randy's sister was pretty steamed that I had been so careless
and that I'd left Randy alone out there, but I wasn't talking. Randy wound up
getting into trouble with some beavers and poison oak with no one around to keep him in line, but that's a story for another
time. I was so thankful to be alive that I didn't care about any of that shit.
The first chance I got, I rented the full range of Mister Seagal's movies - from
Under Seige 2: Dark Territory
It was the least I could do, seeing as he saved my life and all.