My wife and I were going to some convention in Denver from somewhere that we could take by bus. My wife was showing up later.
So I get to the bus station (it’s outside like a bunch of school buses would be) and I walk past Luke Ski lukeski sleeping on a park bench (WTF?) and mention to him that we have to get on the bus. He of course does the whole *mumble*Got time still.*mumble*
I get on the bus, sit down, and the driver asks me where my bags are. Panicked I realize I haven’t packed and run off the bus back to the house.
We were living in a combined living arrangement at a house that was an old Victorian house but all painted white with white carpets.
So I run inside screaming that I have to pack like a madman and run into the one room with a gym bag and start dumping clothes into the bag from the dresser. My sister in law is there and starts helping me pack and suddenly we’re inundated in boxes.
Somehow I get packed and I get back to the bus station and my wife is there complaining that the bus was late when it had already left. After arguing about the bus schedule we grab a cab and have it follow the bus. We manage to stop the bus and get onto it without a problem.
Edit: And all through this whole thing I heard Abney Park's song Post Apocalypse Punk. Again - wtf?
Yeah...I’ve got to stop eating Chinese food or build up my “dream muscles” so I dream better. ;-)