My Case for the Highlander Pot

The immortal MacLeod scouting sketchy Class V whitewater.

Due to one of my recent sit-down chats over coffee with the Grim Reaper (read: close call), I’ve been thinking about that most negative of subjects: my own mortality. Now, there are infinite volumes of human thought concerning this subject, of which we all put our own personal twists on how each of us feels about our inevitable demise, so I won’t dwell too much on that.

The thing that is hitting home to me after this particular scrape is that no matter what, sooner or later, we’re all going down. Either today, tomorrow, or a ways down the road, one at a time or in groups, outside or in a hospital bed, old or young, healthy or sick, heaven-bound, hell-bound, or simply heading six feet under, quiet and peaceful or kicking and screaming, ready or not, we all gotta go. This will really happen. To you, to me. And there’s no way around it that I’ve found yet.

Mostly, this bums me out. I’ve felt for years now that if I had the chance to live here on this shit-show of a rock we call earth, forever, that I wouldn’t hesitate. For all its horrible imperfections, I love this place. I hate the idea of missing a single moment, let alone the rest of them. So what’s a mortal soul to do, besides just bend over and take it? How do you get the most out of the life you have, and what are ways of prolonging and maximizing our most precious resource - time? Put in a more audacious question: How do you fight death?

These are big questions without any real answers. However, I recently had an idea while sitting around nursing fresh wounds with a mixture of ibuprofen, cheap beer, and a three hour marathon of the old Highlander TV show. This might sound weird and a little morbid at first, hence the excessive buildup. But anyways, here goes:

Since we all have to die, why not have a little fun with it? Here’s my proposal: Let’s bet on it. A group of us (and let’s face it, it will probably be a small group, if any at all, that I can convince to throw down on this) will pony up cash, and the last man standing takes the pot. There can be only one! The buy-in could be anything, but something close to a hundred bucks seems about right. Sound ridiculous? That’s because it is, and that’s why this is a great idea.

There’s more. In keeping with the spirit of the Highlander, every time one of us goes, we’ll have a Quickening. This is where we transfer the person’s infinite power (and cash) to the survivors, and, you guessed it, is an excuse to get belligerent. First and foremost, this will involve a bar. I’m thinking that half of the person’s cash will go to the pot, and the other half will go towards a bottle (or bottles) of booze of their choosing, which the survivors will drink at the bar and proceed to get drunk. At some point the survivors, while drinking at the bar, should probably shout “There can be only one!” very loudly.

Also, in addition to the cash buy-in, each person will choose a personal effect, which could be anything from a piece of gear like a kayak paddle, to a favorite shirt, to a picture of someone you couldn’t stand, to whatever, which will be burned at the Quickening, preferably in the alley behind Charlie B’s. Whatever the object happens to be, it should probably represent the part of you that, in both life and death, could utterly never be dominated.

One more thing. Each person gets to choose a song list that the group has to play at the bar. These could either be songs you like, or songs that you simply want to make the group have to listen to as a form of vengeance from the grave. Either way, I’m sure that we’ll end up listening to plenty of Journey.

This sequence continues until, obviously, there can be only one. The best part about this is that you have to finish the person’s booze that their half of the buy-in got you. So every time there is a Quickening, you get more drunk than the last time. This has the potential to be epic if survivors start hitting their 70’s and upward. The final survivor, after loudly and very awkwardly shouting “There can be only one!”, assumes the title of Highlander and gets all the cash, all the bragging rights, and one hell of a hangover.

So there it is. This is just a rough draft; anyone who’s man enough to be in should come up with variations of these rules and we’ll decide on a final version. Yeah, it’s a little dark, but like all serious things in life, if we can bring death down to our level, it becomes that much easier to deal with. By turning death into a gambling and drinking game, I somehow feel a hell of a lot better about it. Also, if you think about it, it’s a great way for the survivors to remember, and for the rest of us to live forever, or at least until the last guy croaks. More than anything, it’s a really good and funny drinking game, which I like quite a bit.

Morbid? Hell yes. Sacrilegious? Most definitely. But if you decide to grow a pair and feel like betting on your life, then its time to man up and throw down on the Highlander Pot. After all, regardless of whether you decide to ante in or not, eventually... There Will Be Only One! Let me know what you think…