…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.*