I'm probably the most unconventional hitchhiker.
Well, I haven't heard or read about any of those, and I've read a lot. Well, a lot.
The familiar scenario: get hit by a car - "bang" - already in another world.
There are many variations of death: electrocuted, stabbed, shot, or a plane crash, and some have no adventures - went to sleep at home, and woke up a hit man.
All right. Now briefly about me: born - lived - died.
The "born" phase can be omitted: I generally do not remember myself as a child.
The "Lived" phase was a success. I lived well, well, just fine. No, really. I got a good education, I found a decent-paying, non-dusty job. I had a three-room apartment and a car. I was doing well on the personal front. I have a hobby (if you can call it that): watching anime, reading manga, fanfics and all sorts of fantasy, mysticism, and a little game of RPG.
On that last point, "died" isn't so bright anymore. Yeah, well, what good can there be in dying, especially your own, rather than your beloved upstairs neighbor's?
One not-so-great Sunday afternoon I went out on the balcony for a smoke. Yes, the Ministry of Health rightly warns that smoking is bad for health, but so ... To sum up the picture: I was standing, smoking, leaning against the grate, admiring the view of the city. Suddenly the fastening of the grate on the right side breaks off - and I fall off the balcony.
You might say, "It was nothing: I fell off the balcony. That's how it all started. Not only did I survive (I was only three stories away), but I also slowed my flight against a tree and collapsed into the bushes. Yes, I was scratched, but nothing fatal. I was lying on the thorny shrubbery, contemplating the sky (it was particularly beautiful), and out of the corner of my eye I noticed that the same grating was flying down from my balcony. It's the reason I'm having an unscheduled rest. It is clearly aiming at me.
Noticing this fact, I managed to bend the mat (at least a three-story mat) and roll slightly to the side. As it turned out, to no avail: the grate had hit me on the head.
Well, I guess that's it! "Hello, New World!" but no. My luck is still with me, and I am still alive. I kept alive and acquired a healthy bump. The medics diagnosed me with a "concussion of what replaces the brain" and loaded me into the ambulance.
On the highway, a Kamaz truck crashes into our car. Ha! And even that wasn't the end of the story of my death: I got off with a minor concussion and a couple of abrasions. Alas, you can't say that about the ambulance crew... Well, I was well fixed on a gurney and the gurney was also reliably fastened in the car.
Just the other day, the fleet was updated with modern models. The governor made a big deal about it before the elections, so I was lucky not to die in a car accident. Once again, I lost my ticket to a new life.
They took me to the hospital. There I was admitted to the emergency room. There I was safely forgotten about. What did you expect? We have FREE MEDICINE. The evening shift found me. More precisely, they did not remember, but stumbled upon an unaccounted-for body on an unaccounted-for gurney. My mortal carcass gave rise to a debate: the previous shift was in a hurry to get home and refused to take me, and the current shift refused to take a body that had come from nowhere. After half an hour of heated discussion, the gurney was sent to... No, not to the morgue. There were such suggestions, but I was still showing signs of life, so the disputants agreed on resuscitation.
The emergency room was on the first floor of the hospital, just like the morgue, and the intensive care unit was on the third floor. Naturally, everyone headed for the elevator. On my way I saw a room marked "M/W" that I had wanted to visit for a long time. Which I told my escorts. "Can't you wait?" - I replied categorically no, and pointed out that I had been patient since the morning, and that if they didn't want to wash out the gurney and the elevator, they should make a stop.
While we were arguing, some geezer in a wheelchair got on the elevator and started going up. However, as soon as the elevator reached the last floor, we heard the sound of the cable tearing and the elevator falling. In general, going to the room marked "M/W" was no longer relevant.
They took me up the stairs to the ICU after all. On the way up, I was almost dropped six times and then dropped twice. To this day I can't figure out how I didn't break my neck. The first time, a wheel fell off the gurney. The second time, the straps that held me to the gurney broke.
In the room, I was sure that my suffering was over. Oh, how naive I had been! During that night I survived three more times, only by miracle. First, I was taken by mistake to surgery, where I almost died from anesthesia. Now I know I am allergic to it.
The next day my girlfriend came to see me. I was so happy to see her! She also brought me some goodies. I chewed with the feeling that life was getting better. She was the one who told me about the two nighttime episodes. How this happened, I did not listen: enough for me the very fact that these two times were, but passed me.
And here we come to the climax of this epic story of my death.
About ten minutes had passed since my girlfriend had left.
The doctors pronounced me dead from suffocation.
I had choked on a cherry pit.