Peder
Well-Known Member
Faking it
He woke up in the Detroit hotel room, hurriedly dressed and headed out. He caught the elevator down to the conference level and walked through anonymous corridors until he found an open door with a meeting about to start. It looked like the right one. He went in, mingled with the other men having coffee and Danish, and chatted about the flight down from NY. They were all lawyers and he an engineer, but so far so good. Pretty quickly, the leader called the meeting to order and everyone found seats. An agenda was scribbled on the whiteboard and discussion turned to the first case. Which he knew nothing about. Silence seemed the best strategy, but after a while it was becoming noticeable and his own discomfort was growing. Easing himself out of his chair, he headed out for an early pee-break. Back out into empty endless corridors. Anonymous, empty and beige. But now he really did have to find a men's room. Wandering, turning corners, he found a likely door -- no sign -- just pushed it open and went in. It was clear that sitting in a strange meeting just wasn't going to hack it. Think, think. He left the hotel and caught the first trolley. It clattered along an endless straight line through gray downtown streets quite suited for watching the scene go by and passing the time. Time enough anyway to begin to think that quitting his job hadn't been the best idea. On the return ride past the same downtown blocks, he realized he didn't remember which hotel he had stayed in. They all looked the same after a while. But luck got him to a front desk. Where he couldn't remember his room number. Or find a key in his pocket. He gave his name -- which he was beginning to think he wouldn't remember either -- but he was lucky on first try and an unfazed receptionist handed him a key. Once again he was packed in a hurry and back out the front door. To a bus. To the airport. Boarding early from first in line, he settled in and watched as the other passengers filed by. Until a man in black ski mask stopped and stared down at him. Big heart-stopping gulp! Four eyes stared hard at each other as he, big hero, wondered what he would do. The sight of two other masked men helped root him to his seat as he watched the one in front of him ominously making up his own mind also about what he was going to do. The second was in the aisle, half-way to the door, and the third one had just boarded. The driver was standing calmly, continuing to take tickets, wouldn't you know -- three terrorists just having calmly walked past him. A stray thought flew through his head. Maybe, as in Lost, retirement really was a peek into your own casket. He slept the rest of the way and could feel himself jostling awake, somehow back in his own bed, as the bus twisted and turned through the Port Authority Bus Terminal in Manhattan, wondering where he had dozed off while reading If on a Winters Night a Traveler.
Peder
3-19-2014
He woke up in the Detroit hotel room, hurriedly dressed and headed out. He caught the elevator down to the conference level and walked through anonymous corridors until he found an open door with a meeting about to start. It looked like the right one. He went in, mingled with the other men having coffee and Danish, and chatted about the flight down from NY. They were all lawyers and he an engineer, but so far so good. Pretty quickly, the leader called the meeting to order and everyone found seats. An agenda was scribbled on the whiteboard and discussion turned to the first case. Which he knew nothing about. Silence seemed the best strategy, but after a while it was becoming noticeable and his own discomfort was growing. Easing himself out of his chair, he headed out for an early pee-break. Back out into empty endless corridors. Anonymous, empty and beige. But now he really did have to find a men's room. Wandering, turning corners, he found a likely door -- no sign -- just pushed it open and went in. It was clear that sitting in a strange meeting just wasn't going to hack it. Think, think. He left the hotel and caught the first trolley. It clattered along an endless straight line through gray downtown streets quite suited for watching the scene go by and passing the time. Time enough anyway to begin to think that quitting his job hadn't been the best idea. On the return ride past the same downtown blocks, he realized he didn't remember which hotel he had stayed in. They all looked the same after a while. But luck got him to a front desk. Where he couldn't remember his room number. Or find a key in his pocket. He gave his name -- which he was beginning to think he wouldn't remember either -- but he was lucky on first try and an unfazed receptionist handed him a key. Once again he was packed in a hurry and back out the front door. To a bus. To the airport. Boarding early from first in line, he settled in and watched as the other passengers filed by. Until a man in black ski mask stopped and stared down at him. Big heart-stopping gulp! Four eyes stared hard at each other as he, big hero, wondered what he would do. The sight of two other masked men helped root him to his seat as he watched the one in front of him ominously making up his own mind also about what he was going to do. The second was in the aisle, half-way to the door, and the third one had just boarded. The driver was standing calmly, continuing to take tickets, wouldn't you know -- three terrorists just having calmly walked past him. A stray thought flew through his head. Maybe, as in Lost, retirement really was a peek into your own casket. He slept the rest of the way and could feel himself jostling awake, somehow back in his own bed, as the bus twisted and turned through the Port Authority Bus Terminal in Manhattan, wondering where he had dozed off while reading If on a Winters Night a Traveler.
Peder
3-19-2014
