Imagination Gone Rogue

I have been remiss regarding my blog entries because I have become quite preoccupied with the news. I am not sure if I mentioned this before but there are days when I literally experience news mania.

If there is a weather front I have to know everything about the impending deluge. If its criminal activity Paratha Chrystie is ready to solve. Anyroads, I think there are days when I am a victim of my own neuroses.

For this simple reason my adoptive mother constantly urges me to limit my news intake. I think she is aware how wild my imagination can get. But, nevertheless, I believe knowledge is power therefore news mania continues in my world. However, recently my fantastical planet has overlapped into reality.

I had been watching the late news when I heard “El Diablo to be tried on Long Island.” I thought, “Of all the places in the world they had to try him, why in New York?”

The traffic would be a mess on Long Island, press would be camped out everywhere and life as we know it would change drastically. I was in a state of discontent regarding the effects of the whole debacle.

If you are not familiar with “El Diablo”, he is the drug king pin who is like Houdini. So, along with my concern for the press circus I was seriously thinking , “What if this lunatic plans an escape caper?”

My thoughts were working overtime, so much so that I acquiesced and fell asleep….Lo and behold I wake up driving on the Wantagh Parkway to whirring helicopters with search lights. I wondered what the Helsinki was going on.

I turned on my car radio and sure enough the newscast stated, “El Diablo On The Run”. Were the helicopters I had been hearing being maneuvered by those who are trained to protect and serve? Or, were they El Diablos compadres on a rescue mission?

But more importantly, why were they focusing on my little red jetta going merrily along the Wantagh Parkway. I was hoping not to get on to the Ocean Parkway where the cause way bridge parted to accommodate the ships and yachts as they sailed by.

All the while I am telling myself I am dreaming but my subconscious says, “This is reality.”

What was a girl to do when my jetta could only go 60 mph while whirring helicopters hovered with lights fit to adorn any stadium. As I peeked through my car window they were no visible decals of law enforcement, not even a decal from the coast guards so the only logical explanation was, it was El Diablo’s goons!

He had escaped in grand fashion from the courthouse, this time in the middle of proceedings as they managed to torch the roof off the courthouse in Hauppague whisking him away in a helicopter . Now, they were on their way to board a yacht taking them to International waters.

You thought I would have had a clue when I saw the unmarked detective cars looking quite bewildered as they stood helpless on the beginning of the Wantagh parkway. They looked like school children who were scared to go home because they had done something wrong.

Their sharp shooters were covertly pretending to be cleaning people as they hovered over the rails looking into the bottomless ocean.

As usual, I much preferred to embrace my Suzie Sunshine disposition ignoring the tell tale signs of major histrionics on the causeway.

It was too late for me to turn back to enlist their help so I pressed pedal to the medal and tried to outrace the hellies. But, no such luck. Before I could even get a mile away I suddenly felt  a magnetic pull and my car became attached to the helicopter, floating in thin air.

I was mortified and irritated at the same time as I was wearing my favorite outfit, my hair was perfectly coiffed and I did not have my wellies or boat shoes with me. I would have to  go rogue just so I could make it home on time.

It had been a hellish day and it was proving to be a hellish night as well. As I dangled in mid air wondering what my fate was going to be, I seriously scolded myself for not paying better attention during my swimming lessons.

I pondered what were they going to do with me and my car, sink us in the ocean, take us along on the their waiting yacht? The thoughts were running rampant and I felt my days of watching Evil Knievel were about to pay off.

But then I felt a sudden jolt and my car had been lowered on to a vessel. It was a state of the art Tiara yacht 591 feet long. I felt there was no time like the present to make a call informing someone about my dilemma but as usual, where is a cell phone signal when you really need one?

I wondered how would anyone know where I was. If only I had been like Gretel leaving a little trail behind perhaps they would have a chance of finding me. Instead I would be in Guadalajara in a few days and God knows what my fate would be. The next thing I knew, I was being ushered from my vehicle and lead to a man who looked like one of the seven dwarves.

Was this El Diablo? I felt a sense of calm as I knew my martial arts training were a about to pay off . I told myself, “I got this handled!” Until I saw the goons in the background, then it was time to start singing every Gregorian chant known to man.

Anyroads, I wondered what to call him, Mr. El, Mr. Diablo…Mr. El Diablo Sir…. It really didn’t matter as I would be shredded wheat in no time if I did not come up with a plan of my own. I thought, “If I don’t maintain any eye contact I could definitely make a break for it when no one was watching.”

Lucky for me the back support cushion in my car was made of life preserver material so I thought if I could just get it and jump into the ocean I could float for a few minutes and hope the brilliant detectives would have figured things out by then, alerting the coast guards to search the waters.

I remembered I had flares in my car. So, If I threw them as a distraction, saying “Grenade!” that would be the best time to make my move. So I did. As I clung to dear life on my back cushion/life preserver I was sure the goons would catch me but it turned out they were afraid of New York’s shark infested waters. Go figure!

As my teeth chattered and I hoped for a ray of a rescue helicopter,  I became aware I had hit a bump. What could it be….? Dry land of course. It turned out, the boat was only a few miles off shore.

I hastily ran to the highway hoping to flag down anyone who could help but to my chagrin, the night had grown late and there was not even a creature stirring. My red jetta had become an unwilling guest on El Diablo’s boat and I was marooned on the Ocean parkway.

The only thing I had going for me was prayer and I used it a lot. Suddenly, from out of nowhere came a taxi driver who had somehow lost his way. It was a yellow cab. I asked him if he was from New York City and he told me “Yes”. Based on his answer I got in.

Once seated, he said, “I have a confession to make… I am not a taxi driver I am El Diablo’s associate… I have a call for you.”

I. was. mortified. As I timidly answered the call I was greeted by a crazed individual asking me to wait for him no matter what happens….

I began screaming, “But, I don’t even know you!,,,Know you….Know you.”

Then I woke up. Thank goodness it was only a dream.

After this little episode I have finally resigned myself to minimal doses of the news. It is quite exhausting when my off the charts imagination goes into overdrive.