A Common Misconception (305 hits)
Category: UberMadness! EntryRating: 1.5 on 9 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Crystle (View user info) at 2006-11-06 22:10:45 EST
This post was an official UberMadness! entry. Click here to view the original matchup.
I was sitting in one of the new coffee shops that are popping up everywhere on an ordinary corner of a very typical street in an unusual city, as I always do on Thursday afternoons. My latte was bitter and too hot as usual, and I was skimming through the morning news while waiting for it to cool.
Hmm.. another weather pattern that promised to wipe out three-quarters of a third world country half way around the globe. Really - it's too far away to care about, so I skip on to the next story. Latin American country number 2137 (aren't there a million of them?) had an insurgency that led to a military coup; but from the article, I can't tell what the difference was between the previous regime and the new one. Moving on I see that a new computer virus had begun to replicate at unheard of rates, spread through the internet into a popular software, the "big game" had been won by- well, some team I had never heard of. The latest scientific discovery was found to cause cancer rather than cure it, and the cost of healthcare is once again soaring. A big celebrity had deigned to visit China, and saddened by the number of people living below her income level, is pleading for money.
Satisfied that the news is all the same as usual, I get on to the important pages - daily puzzles. Being in a rather daring mood I pull out a pen to start working the crossword. After folding the paper just so, I take my first look at the square.
What's this? Some idiot has already written in the puzzle! Insufferable, really. Everyone knows that you can't work the puzzle in a coffee shop paper!
Disgusted, I take a sip of my coffee - the immediate searing pain telling me that my 42-second perusal of the headlines hasn't provided adequate cooling time.
The puzzle is less than half-way filled in, so I check the answers against the clues. One down, five letters - Clue: slaughterhouse product. The filled in (incorrect) answer: Meet, with a square left blank. Damn - even worse, the fool had been working the puzzle in pen, so I couldn't erase it and put in the correct word. It was black ink too, same as my pen.
Two across, eight letters. Inked in answer: Me. I feel a dull throbbing at the base of my neck. I like to think I'm not a violent person, but rage is beginning to gather.
Three down, 3 letters, Answer: At. I briefly consider tearing the paper into millions of little bits and throwing them around the room.
Four across, 12 letters: Geary <space> and . Wait... Was this some sort of cryptic message planted in the crossword? Had I stumbled into some sort of covert operation? A lovers tryst?
Five across, 4 letters: Post* An asterisk? What kind of not so cleverly concealed message ends with an asterisk?
A quick glance shows that there isn't any other writing on the page, so I turn it over - and there at the top, written in the same black ink: "No Sam, you idiot, this is a message to YOU. 5pm, don't be late. You're always late - this time don't be*."
Again with the asterisk. A second throb started in my head, this time in my temples. I sip my latte, not tasting the bitterness because of my scorched tongue. I look over the page, and in the bottom margin I find: "Yeah, it's kind of freaky, just go with it. 5 pm, corner of Geary and Post."
Glancing at my watch, I see that it's now 4:32, ample time to finish the unpalatable beverage before heading out to the odd meeting with ...well, I don't know who with. Should I change? Was this curious meeting a potential romance? Was I about to be dragged into the drug filled haze of San Francisco's underground society? What does one wear to a love-in, anyhow? What if I was going to be kidnapped? Forced to be a drug mule? Inducted into some sort of mafia or fighting group, the Patty Hurst of the Nineties? How had the writer of the messages known I would find them? Did my raspberry lipstick match my bag?
My swirling thoughts continue as I shrug my coat on, pick up my bag and headed out the door. I signal the first taxi I see, only to have it roar past me - the "in service" light clearly on. Damn. I should be paying more attention.
The light of the setting sun bounces off the 20 stories of windows that line the streets, the glare just the right angle to catch on the street sign, and I realize with a start that I am already on the corner of Geary and Post.
I know I'm not so good with details, but this is a bit of an embarrassing shocker. I regularly forget where I am supposed to be and when, but I usually know where I am at any particular moment. Glancing around, I hoped no one had noticed my mistake.
A time check revealed that it was ten minutes to 5, so I had made it to the corner on time. Ahead of time, even. I wonder if I should pop into the near-by coffee shop for a drink of some sort, and then reject the idea as I remember my burnt tongue.
So I stand, looking around, not knowing what I am looking for. A few minutes, flocks of pedestrians, two or three vagrants, and a dog pass me. I begin to reconsider waiting for some unknown to approach me when I feel a tap on my shoulder.
"Sam?"
I jump a little, but cover it gracefully (I hope) by turning to see who it is.
There I am, face to face with...myself? How did that happened? I looked different - but not bad. My outfit is much too plain, it needs something- maybe a bunch of jelly bracelets would work, although my raspberry lipstick does match my manicure beautifully.
The other plainer me spoke again.
"I know, weird, isn't it? Yes, I'm you, and if it's not too cliché, I'm from the future. Actually, even if it IS too cliché, I'm from the future. I came back to straighten me out, and tell me - the you version of me, a few things I'll need to know."
This was it! My big destiny! I am some sort of superhero in stilettos! I eagerly ask myself - that is my other, future self: "What? Am I going to Save the World? Am I going to stop the impending nuclear attack? Am I going .."
"STOP!" My un-accessoried self shouts, rudely interrupting me. "You're... I'm not that important. As I know I - you can figure out, in the future time travel will be fairly common. It doesn't take super-powers. And it doesn't make me some sort of hero."
"But," I, the now-me, says "Doesn't traveling in time and interfering in things change the future? What about messing up the time-space continuum, quantum physics or whatever it's called?"
My future looks slightly disgusted and rolls my eyes at me. "That's such a common misconception. I would think I'd be better than that. Time travel doesn't allow us to change things, we just put in the influences needed to move society forward. Records are broken and new discoveries are made when they are supposed to happen because we come back and tell you past-people how to do what needs doing"
"Well, what is it that I need to know to take humanity to the next level?" I (present)reply.
I look straight at me "I can't believe I'm this arrogant. Ok, here's the deal. Stuck in the past as you are, well - I am, but the you part of me, the clothes have got to change! I can't stand the pictures, so I came back to dress me better."
What a shock! I am a trend-setter! Well ok, more of a trend-follower really, but certainly one of the earliest adaptors! Paul (my husband) runs several clothing companies and I know designs before they hit the racks. I help choose the lines each season! I had been first to wear thick neon belts (and matching socks) over the long striped t-shirt. I had debuted the big crimped hair, and bigger hair bow, at the hottest nightclubs. I AM the poster girl for "the Gap." Well, not literally- we pay models to pose for the posters...
"Seriously, it's GOT to change" time-travel me interrupted my reverie... "God awful Madonna wanna-bes!" I shuddered.
"But I LOVE Madonna!" Now-me said. I frowned and thought of all the leggings, leg warmers, fishnets, and lace gloves that I so adored.
"Trust me, you'll thank me later for this intervention" I said. "Paul's stores sell khaki - it's going to be big! Jump into it now, paired with cashmere. Go Classic, not Trendy. Simplify. Sleek hair, pearls, twin-sets..
"What's a twin-set?" I interrupted future me... for once.
"A twin set is a matching knit top and sweater set - it's going to be THE thing. Very chic, very presentable, polished. Too bad it didn't come around earlier, the world would have been so much better off without ripped up 'Flash Dance' sweatshirts" I say as I glare at present me, as I uneasily clutch my puffy coat closer to cover my sweatshirt.
"Ok, that's about all I can tell you. I need to get back for lunch. I'm out now. Just remember: tell Paul to make khaki the focus for the Gap this Fall"
At this, I spin on my kitten heel and walk briskly away before I can even ask myself any questions. And I had SO many! What shoes do I wear with khaki? What colors should the cashmere be? Would my raspberry lipstick match the sweater-sets?
Hmm... Khaki this Fall into the Gap...
Sadly, although I should have told me, I guess I'll have to wait to see what happens next.
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Submitted by ArnieGeddon (user info) at 2008-04-08 19:56:35 EDT (#)
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Submitted by jigglypuff (user info) at 2008-04-08 19:48:50 EDT (#)
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Submitted by pshuu (user info) at 2007-09-27 17:10:53 EDT (#)
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That picture is hilarious. I was a little tyke when Madge was wearing that pink dress.
Submitted by EmissionImpossible (user info) at 2007-08-29 15:17:49 EDT (#)
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i love it. p.s no comment
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