…something like: Terrible Travel Stories…

When I was about 22 or so I was in a very large crowd outside Wrigley Field in Chicago; all of us waiting to get tickets for the Opening Day game of the Cubs.

This is more than 40 years ago now and I still remember how — when the crowd all began acting as one and one-million simultaneously, and crushing together and surging in every direction — the sheer panic I felt as the crowd crushed in on me and I was lifted off my feet; feeling nothing but pressure all around me; sometime lurching so far over that I felt like I was almost horizontal and being supported only by other bodies.

I still remember looking up at the sky through other bodies and shoulders and chests and thinking, “If I get out of here I will be forever changed.”

And this life-changing experience only last maybe eight minutes. And was not a metaphor for life today.

This is the best bad travel story I have ever heard (with no blood). It really is the Helter Skelter version of Spielberg’s The Terminal.

And although this story will soon never have happened at all; to me it is truly Epic, a new Richard Price’s The Warriors, worthy of a film — that will never be made or cared about at all.

Now I want to read Risa Needleman’s long version of the same time. And then we put these together with about seven other versions of the same story and we have a modern-day masterpiece that no one will care about.

*Also, for what it’s worth, I have always wanted to run a daily blog called something like Terrible Travel Stories.*