Copyrights reserved by the author. If you are in doubt, please click on 'Copyrights' and read the details.When a simple walk becomes a stroll in the Twilight Zone by J. G. Fabiano I have been told that the older we get the younger we act. I never believed this until the other day when my daughter asked my wife and I to go to a club in Boston to hear her boyfriend play in a band. This was going to be easy because our daughter was dating the son of people who have been friends of ours for years, and we were going to stay with them overnight in Boston.We drove to Boston on a Thursday night. The club was in the north end, which made it very convenient because our friends' apartment was also in the north end. Another attraction to staying in the north end was that all the great restaurants are in that part of town. Before we went to the club we ate an Italian meal that was so good we may never be able to eat Italian again without being disappointed. We arrived at the club with our friends around seven-o-clock. It was small and dark with the feel of a British pub and when we arrived it was obvious that most of the occupants had been there for quite a while because everyone was in a very good mood. In other words, three sheets to the wind. The four of us weren't that far behind because three bottles of wine between four people has that effect. Plus, we didn't have to worry about driving because our friends' apartment was only a few blocks away, within easy walking distance.We also discovered that it was dollar Michelob night and my daughter's boyfriend's band would not be taking the stage till around eight-o-clock. There was little I could do to entertain myself for an hour except to experiment with which was stronger at this age - my kidneys or my bladder. My kidneys won!After the band started to play the place really packed in. I am happy to say that, before I arrived at the club, I was afraid that most of the people would be the age of my future grandchildren but since they were all the age of my daughter I felt a bit more comfortable. I was probably the oldest one there but didn't mind because I had a pole to lean on, some good music to listen to, and an abundance of Michelob to drink. Life was good. A few hours later my daughter coaxed me to the bar and offered me a shot of some red liquid to, as she put it, "shoot down." Since it was red and I didn't know of any dangerous red liquor I shot it down. I found out afterwards that it was called "red death". Later on in the evening, one of my daughters' friends bought me another shot of something that had more letters in it than a Mary Poppin's song and, of course, I also shot that one down. Soon afterwards I decided it might be time to get back to the apartment before I took up permanent residence in the club's bathroom. By this time it was 11: 30 p.m. and way past my bedtime. My wife and friends agreed that we'd all had quite enough fun for one evening and we set off on the walk back to the apartment. A block down the road our friends had a difference of opinion over which street was best to take. After a few seconds of arguing back and forth he went one way and his wife went the other. Without a moment's hesitation my wife went with her. For a moment I wasn't sure whom I should follow but then my survival instinct kicked in and I followed my wife. I also decided it would be easier to keep an eye on them because they were the only people on the street carrying an inside-out umbrella against the light rain. I set off across the street after them and then something very strange happened. When I got to the other side of the road and looked around I could see no one. I am not just talking about my wife and her friend: I mean there was no one at all on the street! It was like I had stepped into an episode of the Twilight Zone because it looked as though everyone had abandoned the city and I was the only one left. Only the black, empty streets and the rain falling. The first thought that came to mind was that I must be dead. A bus must have hit me as I crossed the street and now my soul was waiting for something to happen and take me away from this transitional stage. As I waited to be taken away by some supernatural force I wondered if my life would be defined by good or evil; if little black devils were going to carry me off to hell or if little white cherubs were going to lift me up into heaven. After mumbling a few short prayers to myself, and promising God I would be good for the rest of eternity I heard the rumble of something huge. The ground beneath me started to shake and I was shocked back to consciousness by two rapidly approaching balls of light at least 10 feet off the ground. I heard the monster roar as it came closer and realized that whatever bad I had done in my life was all coming back to get me now. Then, a huge construction truck, on its way to or from the Big Dig, roared past me, through a big pool of water and threw up a wave of freezing black water that drenched me from head to toe. I stood there, spitting and sputtering, suddenly sober, and realizing that I was very much alive and also very cold and wet. I then decided to cross back over the street to see if anyone was looking for me only to come to another realization that they probably hadn't noticed yet that I was missing. Standing there on a lonely street corner, drenched and shivering, I wondered how I was going to find my way to the apartment because I had no idea what street it was on. Worse, I didn't even know my friend's phone number. Just to keep warm I started to walk. At least I started to see other people but they all hurried past me, trying not to make eye contact with someone that looked like the creature from the black lagoon, Not that it would have done me any good to stop any of them to ask directions because I had no address to give them.After about 15 minutes of walking and praying that my wife or my friends would discover I was missing I heard music coming from the side pocket of my jacket. It was my cell phone. I thought I was saved. When I answered it was one of my daughter's friends asking where I was. I told her I was still in Boston. After a long silence she asked me if I could see any landmarks so she could figure out where I was. I told her there were many large buildings around me. After another long silence she told me to stay where I was and she would call me back to give me the address of my friends' apartment. For some strange reason she sounded annoyed. For the next few minutes I paced back and forth, dripping from head to toe, waiting for my daughter's friend to call back. She did and gave me my friends' address, which I wrote down on the back of my hand. I told her I would be there in a few minutes. Then, as soon as I hung up, I noticed the ink on my hand had started to run. Fighting back a wave of panic I ran out to the street and attempted to flag down a cab. To my surprise it worked. The cab stopped and the driver asked me where I wanted to go. I told him what I could remember of the address before it disappeared from the back of my hand altogether. But, before he let me in, he threw a blanket over the seat so I wouldn't get it wet and dirty. About 20 minutes and $20 later he dropped me off in front of the apartment. When I rang the doorbell the first thing I heard was my wife asking where the hell I had been. I told her if I knew I would have been there a lot sooner. She then noticed I was dripping wet and refused to let me into the apartment until I had taken off my clothes and passed them in to her. Being in no condition to argue I did I was told. At which point my friends' neighbors came home and, to save herself from further embarrassment, my wife closed the door and left me standing on the doormat in the hallway in my soggy underwear. Trying to appear as innocent as possible under the circumstances I gave them a friendly nod and made some remark about dressing right for the weather. They nodded back in a friendly enough manner but I noticed they didn't want to stick around and chat. It was only when my wife heard their door close that she opened the door to let me in. The next morning, when we were leaving, I saw that I had been stranded about a block and a half from the apartment. How it took 20 minutes and $20 to get there, I guess, is one of those little secrets of cab drivers everywhere. The End
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