Sleeplessness 101

Twelve years ago my younger sister and I were sitting at her kitchen table. She handed me a clipping from the Boston Globe and pointed out an ad requesting volunteers for a medical survey on sleeplessness.

"Beth Israel is paying $1500 to those candidates completing the 10-day experiment."

"$1500. That's a good wage for two weeks."

She was right.

I was broke and called the clinic. The receptionist scheduled an interview at noon. My sister taught at a college down the street from Beth Israel and drove me into the Fenway. I walked over to the hospital. I had been born in its Richardson House. This was my first visit to the facilities since my birth.

On the fifth floor I was met by the female doctor directing the test.

"Basically you have to stay up 60 hours straight."

I can do that." Sixty hours were two and a half days.

A long stretch, but my need for money was as strong as crystal meth.

"Someone will be with you always."

Three shifts I suppose."

Correct."

"Can I read or watch TV."

"No, stimuli."

"No music?"

"Nothing, this experiment is to see how far a human can stay awake without stimulation."

None."

"Only the lights."

"Never off?"

"Never."

"No touching myself." I had a thing for Cindy Crawford. Her beauty was locked in my fantasies to be visited for my pleasure."

"Certainly no touching."

I recognized that this was torture, but said, "No problem. When do we start?"

I was ready now.

"First we have to do some tests."

"Okay." I was in excellent health for a fifty-six year-old man.

The next day I called for the results.

I had failed the physical due to a liver reading considered to be worrisome.

"It's only temporary." The Celtics had beaten the Lakers for the 2008 Championship. My brother and I had celebrated the hometown's feat with a long session of drinking vodka.

"Maybe, but we can't take the risk."

I hung up the phone disappointed by my failure.

Later in the week my younger sister informed me that 60-hours sleep deprivation could cause lasting mental problems.

"And possibly death. Good they didn't accept you."

"I could have used the $1500."

"Other harmful side effects of enforced sleep deprivation are Diabetes, Stroke, high blood pressure, amnesia, skin damage, and number of cardiac problems."

"Okay, so I didn't need the $1500 that bad."

It wasn't the truth.

My younger sister gave me a c-note.

Two days later I bussed back to New York with $80 in my pocket.

I read the newspaper on the Fung Wah bus.

The CIA was under investigation for 'enhanced techniques' on the thousands of suspects passing through the off-shore torture camps.

One of them was sleep deprivation.

Vice President Cheney had always insisted that losing a little sleep didn't hurt anyone and neither did standing on their feet for eight hours at a time.

I begged to differ, because later that month I traveled to Russia.

JFK-Moscow-Kiev-Moscow-St. Petersburg-Moscow-JFK in eight days.

Too many flights in to few days.

Normally I crashed for a good 8-10 hours a night.

I barely caught three in Rodina.

My vim and vigor were shot, but this was nothing.

The CIA had kept detainees up for weeks on end.

Without any cocaine either.

Give me a little blow and I'll stay up for a week, but my nerves would be very frayed, despite previous Vice President Cheney's protestation that a little torture was a good thing.

I love my sleep.

Plus I'm old-fashioned about my dreams.

Cue up Cindy Crawford, please.

I am Old School.

My Friend Steve

A young man named Brian was sailing solo around the world. A typhoon caught him in the open waters of the Pacific. His sloop was battered by giant waves. The boat was sinking. There was no time for an SOS.

Brian abandoned his sinking boat and prayed for his life, as the heavy seas savaged his life raft. Finally he was washed overboard. Water filled his lung. Death seemed certain, only he woke on the soft sands of a deserted island.

Water, coconuts, fish, and fruit provided sustenance.

A week and month passed with the rising and setting of the sun. No jets overhead, no ships on the horizon, no Man Friday and Brian resigned himself to solitude.

A year later an epic typhoon savages the island.

The next morning Brian spotted a life raft on the reef. Shark fins broke the surface. He swam across the lagoon to discover a woman. Not just any woman, but Cindy Crawford the supermodel. Brian dragged the raft through the tumult of the surf and nurses the famous beauty to health. Little by little she regained her strength. After a month she thanked Brian for saving her life.

"If there's anything I can do let me know. Anything."

Brian thought about it for a second and said, "No, I did what any human would do for another human."

A week became a month. Cindy and Brian were young. Sex was in the air. Brian was handsome. Cindy was a dream come true. Finally one night they made love.

Paradise. Eden. Utopia.

In the morning they walked the beach hand in hand.

"You remember saying that you would do anything?" Brian asked Cindy with an almost perverse tone.

"Yes." Cindy had been waiting for this moment for months. All men were alike.

"Did you mean that?"

"Yes." Cindy was expecting the worse, but Brian had saved her life and she said, "Anything."

Brian pulled out a Red Sox baseball cap and says, "Could you wear this and let me call you Steve? He's my best friend."

"Sure." This was nothing and Cindy put the cap on her head. "Happy?"

"I couldn't be happier." Brian shut his eyes and said, "Steve, you will never believe who I'm fucking."

Rob The Rich

I know rich people.

They live mostly in Palm Beach, Millbrook, or the Upper Easts Side of Manhattan, because they feel safe in those wealthy enclaves, however armed gunman invaded a Tribeca condo a little after dark. One of the pair put a 9mm to the head of the young owner.

"Where's the safe?"

The young man told them without hesitation. He was worth multi-millions.

"What's the combination?"

Herman gave it up without a struggle.

They got $90,000 and left Herman tied to the chair. His wife found him an hour later. He got up and opened a bottle of wine.

"Aren't you calling the police?"

"What for?"

He didn't need the NYPD asking any questions and Herman phoned me later to ask, "Did I do the right thing?"

"Someone knew you had the money in the safe. Someone knew why." I wasn't asking any questions. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, but my wife is freaked."

"Are you going to tell her the truth?"

"No." And he wasn't telling me it either.

We are entering a time that I never thought I would see again.

1975 with all of America broke and people willing to take chances. but this time is will be worst, so you rich people, when Obama requests more taxes, don't say nothing or else you could end up like the Russian aristocrats in 1919 and that was a tough year for the rich..

Give and give often or else who'll meet Herman's friends. They number in the millions and there is no where safe in a revolution, unless it's in Cindy Crawford's arms.

My Friend Steve

A young man named Brian is sailing solo around the world. A typhoon catches him in the open waters of the Pacific. His sloop is battered by giant waves. There is no time for an SOS.

Brian abandons his sinking boat and prays for his life, as the heavy seas savage his life raft. Finally he is washed overboard. Water fills his lung. Death seems certain, only he wakes on the soft sands of a deserted island.

Water, coconuts, fish, and fruit provide sustenance.

A week and month passes with the rising and setting of the sun. No jets overhead, no ships on the horizon, no Man Friday and Brian resigns himself to solitude.

A year later an epic typhoon savages the island.

The next morning Brian sees a life raft on the reef. Shark fins break the surface. He swims across the lagoon to discover a woman. Not just any woman, but Cindy Crawford the supermodel. Brian drags the raft through the tumult of the surf and nurses the famous beauty to health. Little by little she regains her strength. After a month she thanks Brian for saving her life.

"If there's anything I can do let me know. Anything."

Brian thinks about it for a second and says, "No, I did what any human would do for another human."

A week becomes a month. Cindy and Brian are young. Sex is in the air. Brian is handsome. Cindy is a dream come true. Finally one night they make love.

Paradise. Eden. Utopia.

In the morning they walk the beach hand in hand.

"You remember saying that you would do anything?" Brian asks Cindy with an almost perverse tone.

"Yes." Cindy had been waiting for this moment for months. All men were alike.

"Did you mean that?"

"Yes." Cindy was expecting the worse, but Brian had saved her life and she said, "Anything."

Brian pulls out a Red Sox baseball cap and says, "Could you wear this and let me call you Steve? He was my best friend."

"Sure." This was nothing and Cindy put the cap on her head. "Happy?"

"I couldn't be happier." Brian shuts his eyes and says, "Steve, you will never believe who I'm fucking."