Wrong Exit: 117 Worst Places to Die

#1. At the head of a conga line in the Mexican section of EPCOT Center

#2. In the buff, during that secret midnight romp on your neighbor’s trampoline

#3. Mid-snow angel

#4. Crouched in the rafters above the high school girl’s locker room, your janitorial outfit bunched around your ankles

#5. At your boss’s daughter’s Bat Mitzvah, break-dancing in the Hora circle

#6. Locked in your “Panic Room,” hiding from the door-to-door magazine salesman

#7. Instants before the flash explodes on that whimsical “old-timey” photo

#8. At Chuck E. Cheese, hugging the giant mouse mascot, on your 40th birthday

#9. At a karaoke bar, belting out “Walkin’ On Sunshine”

#10. Steps away from your Filipino mail-order bride’s hut

#11. Roughly six minutes after mumbling “What’s the worst that can happen?” and stopping to pick up that drifter with the “colorful past”

#12. Superbowl stadium, performing a precarious hand-stand for the benefit of the Jumbo-Tron

#13. In your sleep, on a Jet Blue shuttle van

#14. Ikea cafeteria, face-first in a bowl of Swedish meatballs

#15. Wearing a sombrero and standing on a table at Chi-Chi’s, leading the rest of the patrons in a rousing rendition of “La Cucaracha”

#16. Prepped and ready for your first ever high colonic

#17. After completing the last sentence of that hilarious “prank” suicide note

#18. A bathroom on a Greyhound bus, en route to Dollywood

#19. In a dunk-’em-booth, dressed as a clown, taunting the passers-by

#20. The alley behind the Z102 Morning Zoo studio, dumpster-diving for “Krazy Kash”

#21. East Hampton, playing “Baby, I Love Your Way” on the steel drums at your best friend’s barefoot beach wedding

#22. At a dental school, getting that half-off root canal

#24. In the “Personal Grooming Aisle” of a Dollar Store

#25. Under anesthesia for the double calf-implant

#26. In the mudpit at the Renaissance Faire

#27. Tooling down the highway, one eye on the road, the other on an old David Denby New Yorker review

#28. In a non-sanctioned tattoo parlor, with a half-completed “THUG LIFE” inked across your lower-stomach

#29. In the cougar pen at the Bronx zoo, gingerly retrieving your Swatch

#30. Easing yourself into a hot tub with Larry King

#31. Reclining in a purple “saw-you-in-half” box, after volunteering to be the magician’s assistant

#32. At the hands of a surprisingly strong Pauly Shore

#33. Elbows on the rail of a riverboat casino, pondering your future

#34. In your garage, whimsically whipping up your first homemade batch of meth from a recipe you found on MySpace

#35. While administering your Mim-Mim’s sponge bath

#36. Halfway through a community-service-mandated lecture about “bad lifestyle choices” at your former middle school

#37. While momentarily escaping the demands of a stressful life in the vibrating chair at The Sharper Image

#38. Pinned beneath a huge boulder, just after amputating your left arm, much closer to civilization than you previously thought

#39. In a darkened room, watching Kevin Costner’s Message in a Bottle with your in-laws

#40. West Baltimore, in the middle of your improvised and self-guided “The Wire” tour

#41. Stomping grapes with a barefoot Don Johnson during “Celebrity Wine Weekend”

#42. In your attic, crushed under the weight of your vintage erotica collection

#43. In a puddle of urine, not your own

#44. Riding the Tilt-a-Whirl at a church carnival as “Funky Cold Medina” blasts over the loudspeakers

#45. In a shiv battle over the April 2004 issue of Maxim during your stay at a minimum-security correctional facility

#46. On stage performing Van Halen’s “Eruption” during the National Air Guitar Quarter-Finals

#47. Halfway into that stolen suit of armor in a utility closet at the Smithsonian

#48. Just after high-fiving Rosie O’Donnell on the Lido Deck during her annual “Rainbow Cruise”

#49. On the red eye, somewhere over Kansas, a copy of Hemispheres on your lap

#50. In the media room at the local public library, just having Googled “herpes + cure.”

#51. At the Outback Restaurant, proudly holding aloft your “I Can’t Believe I Just Ate 25 Racks of Ribs, Mate!” trophy

#52. In a “high-end” Porta-John

#53. Mid-application of a penis stud in the Mall of America’s “Piercing Pagoda”

#54. On the couch at your former fraternity, homecoming weekend

#55. The Mama Mia! tour bus

#56. Just outside a Mexican Farmacia, a spring in your step and a bag of 1,000 “La Viagras” in your hand

#57. On some asshole’s new sailboat

#58. In the sex-reference aisle of Barnes & Noble, fulfilling your life-long dream of making love to your wife in public

#59. Middle urinal, Tony Danza to your left, an overly zealous Tony Danza fan to your right

#60. Thanksgiving at a restaurant with “All You Can Eat” in its title

#61. In the waiting room of a “Spank Bank,” filling out a sodoku puzzle

#62. At a comic book convention, play-wrestling with the “Incredible Hulk”

#63. Halfway through the photo shoot for the Red Cross’s new “In The Event Of Choking” poster

#64. At a gang-bang video shoot, with a sign taped to your bare back that reads “Participant #126”

#65. A little too close to the pyrotechnics display at a Motley Crue cover band concert

#66. On stage at an acting workshop, just having grabbed the “improv baton”

#67. Naked in a stolen canoe

#68. On the dugout, seventh-inning stretch, playing the straight man to the rally monkey

#69. At the bottom of your neighbor’s basement death pit, hugging a stuffed doll named “Precious”

#70. On the subway home, fifty dollars richer from having just participated in that drug trial

#71. Lying prone before a congregation of the “Alternative Church” you stumbled upon in the woods

#72. At the company Halloween party, dressed as a secondary sex characteristic

#73. In the arms of a talking tree after gorging on Jimson Weed

#74. Halfway through your shift passing out flyers in that giant pickle costume

#75. In the back room of Spencer’s Gifts, fiddlin’ with the candles shaped like vaginas

#76. Leather S&M mask over your head, rubber ball in mouth, your last thought being, “Maybe I shouldn’t have triple-locked the front door”

#77. Downtown Cincinnati, in the backseat of a rented Hyundai, making love to the prostitute with the fake UGG boots

#78. Slow-dancing in your living room alone to Chris De Burgh’s “Lady in Red”

#79. On a cruise, doin’ the limbo during “Jamaican Night”

#80. At the Forever 21 store in the mall, flirting with the middle-aged cashier

#81. In a sweaty post-concert huddle with the members of Blues Traveler

#82. Williamsburg, Virginia: Tri-corner hat, head in the stocks

#83. Front row at Tony Robbins’ “Unleash the Power Within!” seminar

#84. In line for a funnel cake

#85. “Business Class” on Amtrak, midway between New York and Wilmington

#86. While doing the firewalk at the company’s “trust games” retreat

#87. In the basement of a Scientology Center, hooked up to an E-meter, beneath an oil painting of L. Ron Hubbard wearing a jaunty sailor’s cap

#88. Smack dab in the middle of the mosh pit during Nickelback’s performance at the People’s Choice Awards

#89. The Museum of Sex gift shop

#90. In the midst of a boot-scootin’ line dance

#91. Sunrise at the Burning Man Festival, in a pup tent, playing “Here Comes the Sun” on your plastic recorder

#92. Seated on a stool, sipping a wine spritzer, after Dateline’s Chris Hansen emerges from behind a screen to ask you a few questions

#93. Inside your cubicle on Casual Friday, wearing your favorite Daffy Duck necktie

#94. Strapped into your rented parasail on a Bahamas beach, doing the “look, no hands!” move for the woman you just met from Long Island

#95. L.A. turnpike, after impishly flashing a gang sign to a seemingly hip-to-irony highway patrol officer

#96. Bustin’ ass through the streets of Harlem, pulling pranks wherever you go, just you and your midget sidekick, who also happens to be white

#97. Mile three of your four-month trek of the entire Appalachian Trail

#98. Regaining consciousness in a tricked-out van on I-95 and meeting your “internet friend” for the very first time

#99. At a Rock and Roll Fantasy Camp, learning the art of the stage dive

#100. The International Space Station, just after your $20 million check clears

#101. In the handicapped stall at your workplace, experimenting with the “erotic asphyxiation” thing you just learned about on Wikipedia

#102. Upper balcony, dancing ecstatically to a particularly hot fiddle solo at a live broadcast of “A Prairie Home Companion”

#103. In the game room at the Playboy mansion, playing pinball with Scott Baio and Bill Maher

#104. Between the letters ‘G’ and ‘H’ while licking the alphabet “down there”

#105. Live, on-air, bragging to Al Roker about have just turned a “still vibrant” 100

#106. On a tandem bike on the Atlantic City Boardwalk, just you and your brand-new friend Chyna

#107. Upper deck, the wind in your hair and the stars in your eyes, passing the “real Kramer’s apartment” on the Seinfeld double-decker bus tour

#108. During intermission for Billy Crystal’s touring production of “700 Sundays,” starring Paul Reiser

#109. Arriving stag at your 35th high school reunion, taking that last step out of your rented stretch SUV

#110. Back row at the Learning Annex’s “How to Improve Your Chances with the Opposite Sex” seminar

#111. On the edge of your bed, grooming a Batman logo into your pubic hair

#112. At a skateboard park, rappin’ with Stephen Baldwin about Jesus and stuff

#113. In front of your computer, masturbating to the teenage daughter from The Sims

#114. Minute fifteen into your finger-cymbal solo inside a drum circle

#115. In your apartment, with AC/DC’s “Big Balls” blasting from the stereo, which is set on “repeat”

#116. Caught on digital videotape, being “Punk’d” by a communications major from the local two-year commuter college

#117. On the shitter, reading this list

–with Ted Travelstead