I Survived a Butt-Numbing Motorcycle Odyssey After a Graveyard Shift – You Won’t Believe Where It Took Me!

 

It’s 7 AM, and I’ve just clocked out of my graveyard shift at a fast-food chain, the kind of job that leaves you smelling like fries and questioning your life choices. My eyes are heavy, my soul is drained, and all I want is to collapse into my dorm bed like a sack of potatoes. But no—my dormmate, with the enthusiasm of someone who’s clearly had eight hours of sleep, hits me with the ultimate curveball: “Hey, wanna come to a remote resort with me and my boyfriend?” Translation: “Be our third wheel on an adventure you’re too tired to say no to.” Spoiler alert: I said yes.

Now, I’m not sure if it was the delirium from pulling an 11 PM to 7 AM shift or just my chronic FOMO, but there I was, clinging to the back of a motorcycle—my friend’s boyfriend’s trusty steed—about to embark on a four-hour journey through what I can only describe as nature’s obstacle course.

"Hilly, rugged roads stretched out before us like a bad dream, each bump a personal attack on my already exhausted body. My butt? Screaming. My dignity? Left somewhere back at the city limits."

At one point, I croaked out a half-joking, “I’m one peso away from crossing into the afterlife,” and honestly, it felt truer than I’d like to admit.

But oh, was it worth it.

After what felt like an eternity of bouncing along on that two-wheeled torture device, we arrived. And let me tell you, the second I peeled myself off that motorcycle and took in the view, I forgot every curse word I’d muttered under my breath.

The resort perched atop this remote haven was like something out of a fever dream—except this time, it was the good kind. From up there, I could see the entire city sprawled out below, a glittering mess of lights and chaos I’d escaped for a day. The air hit me like a slap of pure, icy bliss—so cold it jolted me awake better than any energy drink ever could. And the spring? Crystal clear, shimmering like liquid glass, tempting me to dive in despite my zombie-like state.

I stood there, sore butt and all, marveling at how I’d gone from flipping burgers in fluorescent-lit purgatory to this—nature’s VIP lounge. Sure, I was the awkward third wheel, and yeah, I hadn’t slept in over 24 hours, but this? This was an adventure I didn’t know I needed. A wild, ridiculous, “pinch-me-I’m-dreaming” kind of day that made every pothole and near-death peso joke worth it.

So here’s my unsolicited advice from the edge of exhaustion:

"Say yes to the crazy ideas. Hop on the motorcycle. Survive the ride. Because sometimes, the best stories—and the best views—come when you’re too tired to argue with your own bad decisions."