Tuesday, March 11, 2008

improv- a time and a place.

So, as I read blogs and avoid work, I of course find this entertaining yet extremely disturbing video and I realize I never documented MY experience in Grand Central, which has now scarred me for life and I cannot believe I had forgotten.

So for your viewing enjoyment:
Me, The Duffel Bag and Grand Central.

Because I am a stubborn stubborn stupid woman, I decided I was not going to spend the holidays in New Orleans with my family, but that is neither here nor there. The point is I spent Christmas in Connecticut with family friends. And in order to get there I had to take The Metro North which is out of Grand Central. And let me just tell you, being in the middle of one of the busiest places in the world on one of the busiest traveling days of the year gives a whole new meaning to "Grand Central Station".

So, there I am, it's Christmas Eve and I am in a recockulously long line waiting to get my ticket. And in these extremely nervous moments (because I have never ridden a real train before and I hoped to god I was in the right line, I hoped I'd buy the right ticket because knowing me I would buy a ticket to East Jesusland and not know the difference and I hoped I was going to get on the right train because lord knows this place is HUGE, etc.) I notice two very large duffel bags in the middle of the floor unattended. My first reaction as a human being was whatever. They'll be back. But as I stood there, the longer they went unattended the wilder my vivid imagination ran.

I began to sweat. I mean, what was I supposed to do? Who was I supposed to alert? And did I really want to get out of line? I looked behind me, and the line had tripled since I have gotten there. My train was set to leave in 20 minutes, did I really want to risk it? (Yes, I am highly aware I am NOT the poster child for the See something, Say something campaign.)

So then my thoughts move on as I continue to look at the bags, look away for a second and then look back praying to Allah someone would come claim them. I continue to do this for a good 10 minutes (ok it was like 1 or 2, but it felt like forever in my crazy mind). Like, what the hell would I do if it exploded? Well, I wouldn't have time to do a damn thing but soil my leggings and burn being this close. Did dying hurt? Hopefully I wouldn't feel anything. My remains probably wouldn't be identifiable and how was my mother going to know I was even there? I mean, I guess people would figure it out eventually but I hadn't even updated my will (which is totally not a legit will. When I was younger, every time I would get on a plane I would allot all my things out in case it crashed. Optimistic, I know) because who would have thought a terrorist would be so evil to blow up Grand Central on a holiday? Wait. Did those kinds of people even celebrate Baby Jesus' birth?

Then a man walks up to it with a few ladies in tow. Obviously the owner of the suspicious bags went to find his family. They begin to unload their bags into the pile. This should have eased my concern, but alas it didn't. The family happened to be terrorist looking (ok. I'm allowed to say this. I am from middle eastern decent and I wasn't being prejudice for chrissake. I just had multiple mini-heart attacks over this and to have Mohammad and family show up, scared the shit out of me even more).

As I continue to watch, I see he has something black in his hand (a DETONATOR!!! my vivid imagination screamed) and he was pointing to the bags. My effin heart stopped. O. my. god. He was going to blow up all of us, including what looked like his mother, wife and children- but then again didn't their insane religion believe in that kind of stuff? Killing innocent people, including the woman who gave birth to you? I was certain I was going to die. I closed my eyes and waited for the blow. This was it. My life sucked and it was ending right then and I hadn't had good sex in months.

I slowly opened one eye and fought the urge to feel if my body was in one piece (like I was the crazy one). Yea. It was a cell phone and I'm an ass and I made it to Connecticut in one piece but I assure you, I am missing a few years of my life.

So, as entertaining as it might be for these asshat theater people to stage something like this- my blood pressure and therapist would greatly appreciate if you would continue your personal jackassery elsewhere. Like a mall:


Eastcoastdweller said...

Maybe Allah convinced the guy that this would be a sad and boring world without Nicotine Queen in it.

Or maybe God hasn't finished construction on Your cloud suite yet, complete with 40 trillion shoes for You to try on and a humidor as big as Long Island full of the best cigarettes in the universe.