Oh, the electric pool. Now I remember

Dang! We truly are immortal as young people! ("Hey. The pool light has a short and is leaking electricity . . . but as long as you don't get close to it you won't die. " "Hey. Let's see how close to it we can get!")
Bill has remarked on his driving all night, which blows my earlier suggestion that we only broke our driver-switching schedule once. The time I was recalling is when we took a wrong turn (where?) while Bill was asleep. We thought we could get back on the right road without waking him, but then . . . egads! A bathroom break was necessary. I drove the jeep in circles at a gas station, each circuit ringing the bell for the gas jockey's attention, but Bill remained dormant. Emerging from the loo, Joe jumped in the car while it was still moving and we trundled out back on the road. It seems that this is when Bill awoke. It was then that smoke, brimstone, and an acrid effluvium obscured my sight. Time and space no longer had meaning. The very fabric of the universe was cleft to the core. A thousand flames about a thousand people crawled, and the seraphim appeared holding seven scrolls. Slowly, ever so slowly, I realized that what had sounded at first like the ever increasing volume of a distant drum beat was my own heart, and somewhere in the cosmos the harmony of the spheres gave voice to its momentary chaos: "Rand-McNally" echoed in the reaches of my frontal lobes. That is all. The crystal has gone dark.