So, before you say anything, I can totally explain why it seemed like I dropped of the face of the planet for, uh, three months.
It’s because I did.
You see it all started when I was waiting to catch the T. At first it seemed like the T would never come. NEVER. Because that’s always how it feel when you’re waiting on the T and especially so when it’s so darn c-c-c-cold out. But eventually I realized that the T was never coming because nothing around me had changed. Hey, hey, hey, hey, HEY, I thought, What’s going on here? Fortunately, I’ve spend years watching quality sci-fi shows and movies, so I immediately was able to deduce that I had inadvertently been sucked into an intergalactic, multi-dimensional rift in the space-time continuum, most likely resulting from the heinous actions of some super-fiend with a time dilation device. Those types always think they’re sooo clever with their advanced technology and all. So I immediately set to work trying to find a way out of this situation, using my carefully-honed vocabulary of pseudo-scientific terms like dilithium chamber, plasma blast and control panel to guide me.
First, though, I went to the CVS to stock up on rubberbands, paper clips, duct tape, AA batteries and any other tools that might allow me to MacGyver my way out of this. But as I walked through the doors, which slid rapidly open as I approached them, my mind was sent reeling—I was certain that I had seen such door-opening technology before somewhere . . . but where? I puzzled over it as I gathered the supplies, which would be useless in the hands of an average person but very powerful indeed in the hands of a experienced sci-fi enthusiast. And finally I knew. The doors. They opened and closed behind me in a similar fashion to the doors on Star Trek. Obviously, I concluded, this must be where the sinister plot to conquer Earth is being carried out! With as much haste as I could manage while pushing my shopping cart of common household items, I began searching for anything that seemed out of the ordinary, anything that seemed sciencey or futuristic, or which had back-lighted buttons that might be the device holding time itself captive. I would know it when I saw it.
But as my search wore on, I began to doubt myself. Shouldn’t my knowledge of sci-fi have prepared me for just this occasion? Then, as I was strolling past the magic price check/coupon machine, and wondering if there were any good coupons this week, it hit me. A magic machine? A machine that can simply scan a rewards card and immediately produce scraps of paper with discounts on various store items? Obviously this must be what I was looking for. The sinister foe had thought to hide the evil time dilation device beneath a veneer of generosity, preying on the human weakness for a good bargain, thus preventing suspicion of the malignant secret hiding deep within the tall computer column. But now I knew the secret and I knew what I had to do.
First I used my gathered supplies to create a shape-charged, sub-atomic, electo-magnetic incendiary device which I secured to the “coupon machine” with duct tape. Then I downloaded an app on my iPhone that would allow me to detonate the device remotely, and I moved to a safe distance and pressed–uh, make that touched the button on my phone . . . and nothing happened! What could have gone wrong, I wondered? As I looked over my trusty mobile device, I realized that I had walked directly into a pocket that wasn’t covered by AT&T’s 3G network. Cursing that company slightly under my breath, I walked around looking rather lost for a moment until I found the right signal strength, and then I touched the button again. There was an explosion inside the store, but had my device worked? I waited. Within moments, five trains were bearing down from central Boston, but still, no trains were departing in the direction I wanted to go. At last, I thought, all is back to normal! My device had worked.
In the aftermath of the explosion, I learned that Greater Boston had been the only place affected. Apparently, the super-fiend had thought of this brave city as a beachhead for further invasion of our great planet. Though I can never be sure, I believe that the unidentified foe chose Boston primarily for two reasons: 1) He/She/It had, like me, observed that in movies, invasions that start in New York or Washington DC never seem to pan out; and 2) He/She/It is an avid baseball fan and hoped to have an opportunity to tour Fenway and catch a Sox game before proceeding with world domination.
And that, my friends, is exactly what happened.
This absurdity has been brought to you by cabin fever, excessive reading of Marvel Comics, and the letter S.