The night of the staring dead
Late night Denver. The airport as become a seine for the passengers unloading from a swarm of planes, filtering out the lucky stiffs who have some place to go from the unlucky ones who get to sleep in the airport.
I'm one of the unlucky ones. Not one to miss out on opportunities, I walk through the museum pieces, read the history of aviation in Colorado, and browse some in the gated storefronts of dimly lit caves of retail. My body aches, my bones are tired, and my eyes have stopped trying to focus thirty minutes ago and I know in my heart, it is time to find a place to park the ol' carcus and try to catch some shut-eye.
I spot a place to the side of the ticket kiosks where other passengers have stretched out on the carpet and are utilizing their carry-on bags for pillows. Looking for an empty spot, I find a nice cubby hole underneath a sign and crawl under where sleep overtakes me and my body gives in to the desires for rest.
Somewhere in the night I feel the violation of eyes upon my body. Feeling a little creeped out, I barely open an eyelid to scan the room for the violators. It doesn't take long as I realize sitting across from me, less than three feet away, is a tanned blonde woman who is leaning forward, head in hands that are balanced on her knees, and staring at me. I make a cursory glance down my frame to make sure I wasn't revealing anything important (and yes, I had zipped up). When I was sure everything was in a good state, I open my eyes to stare into her eyes. Eyes that make you shiver if you have ever seen them before, and I have, the eyes of the staring dead.
Should I lean forward and give her a shake? Maybe use a hand to close the eyelids shut while I seek out a security guard? Perhaps I should roll over and pretend she wasn't there but those eyes... those dead stare eyes... how could you turn away from such a thing?
About the time I have decided to do something, the dead staring woman shifts in her seat. Does she look away? No! Does she speak? No! Does she do anything at all that would indicate there is even a soul inside her? No!
Yikes! I am definitely staring eye to dead eye with a zombie! Any moment I know she will be leaning over to take a bite out of me and making me into her zombie play mate so I must move now. Quickly I rolled to the other side of the sign, grab my bag, and hot foot it towards the Men's restroom where I dawdle washing my face, empty my body of unnecessary liquid, and then return to do battle with the death staring zombie.
To my surprise the zombie is no longer there. Now that I look about, neither are the other sleeping passengers. I look for suspicious signs of grease or blood on the floor and find none. Egad, these zombies are neat freaks! Looking up and down the corrider, I still find no sign of my fellow sleepers or of the zombie. Crawling underneath the sign once more, I catch a few more z's until I feel the eyes upon me again.
Sure enough, there she sits, in the same position, same lifeless eyes, and same stare. I know this is the moment of truth. Carefully I reach into my carry-on, feeling for something to use as a weapon. Ah, there it is, my Ipod! Grabbing it carefully, I start a long fluid motion to roll out from the sign and raising my Ipod I...
... leap to my feet and scream like a girl all the way down to the second floor. Luckily, zombie woman wasn't on my plane. Unfortunately I never saw the other passengers which could only mean there are now more zombies in Denver International. I would suggest you all fly around Denver...
I'm one of the unlucky ones. Not one to miss out on opportunities, I walk through the museum pieces, read the history of aviation in Colorado, and browse some in the gated storefronts of dimly lit caves of retail. My body aches, my bones are tired, and my eyes have stopped trying to focus thirty minutes ago and I know in my heart, it is time to find a place to park the ol' carcus and try to catch some shut-eye.
I spot a place to the side of the ticket kiosks where other passengers have stretched out on the carpet and are utilizing their carry-on bags for pillows. Looking for an empty spot, I find a nice cubby hole underneath a sign and crawl under where sleep overtakes me and my body gives in to the desires for rest.
Somewhere in the night I feel the violation of eyes upon my body. Feeling a little creeped out, I barely open an eyelid to scan the room for the violators. It doesn't take long as I realize sitting across from me, less than three feet away, is a tanned blonde woman who is leaning forward, head in hands that are balanced on her knees, and staring at me. I make a cursory glance down my frame to make sure I wasn't revealing anything important (and yes, I had zipped up). When I was sure everything was in a good state, I open my eyes to stare into her eyes. Eyes that make you shiver if you have ever seen them before, and I have, the eyes of the staring dead.
Should I lean forward and give her a shake? Maybe use a hand to close the eyelids shut while I seek out a security guard? Perhaps I should roll over and pretend she wasn't there but those eyes... those dead stare eyes... how could you turn away from such a thing?
About the time I have decided to do something, the dead staring woman shifts in her seat. Does she look away? No! Does she speak? No! Does she do anything at all that would indicate there is even a soul inside her? No!
Yikes! I am definitely staring eye to dead eye with a zombie! Any moment I know she will be leaning over to take a bite out of me and making me into her zombie play mate so I must move now. Quickly I rolled to the other side of the sign, grab my bag, and hot foot it towards the Men's restroom where I dawdle washing my face, empty my body of unnecessary liquid, and then return to do battle with the death staring zombie.
To my surprise the zombie is no longer there. Now that I look about, neither are the other sleeping passengers. I look for suspicious signs of grease or blood on the floor and find none. Egad, these zombies are neat freaks! Looking up and down the corrider, I still find no sign of my fellow sleepers or of the zombie. Crawling underneath the sign once more, I catch a few more z's until I feel the eyes upon me again.
Sure enough, there she sits, in the same position, same lifeless eyes, and same stare. I know this is the moment of truth. Carefully I reach into my carry-on, feeling for something to use as a weapon. Ah, there it is, my Ipod! Grabbing it carefully, I start a long fluid motion to roll out from the sign and raising my Ipod I...
... leap to my feet and scream like a girl all the way down to the second floor. Luckily, zombie woman wasn't on my plane. Unfortunately I never saw the other passengers which could only mean there are now more zombies in Denver International. I would suggest you all fly around Denver...
posted by Frustrated Writer | 6:10 AM
9 Comments:
That reminds me of all the problems Ive had with vacant-eyed, blonde zombie women. They must be multiplying at an alarming rate! Everyone, grab your shovels!
Sounds like a bad dream to me! Glad you made it safely through Denver.
As creepy as the gal was, I still got a belly laugh thanks to the way you phrased it. What a visual of you and the ipod, screaming. I think I would have definitely yelped loudly on the first incident.
"zombie woman"
re
"The Zombies Lyrics - She's Not There Lyrics":
"Well no one told me about her, what could I do
Well no one told me about her, though they all knew
But it's too late to say you're sorry
How would I know, why should I care
Please don't bother tryin' to find her
She's not there
Well let me tell you 'bout the way she looked
The way she'd act and the colour of her hair
...
Her eyes were clear and bright
But she's not there"
You should have sung "The Zombies" "She's Not There" to "zombie woman".
If you had she may have realized she is a "zombie woman" and fled the airport.
By not having sung the song, you risked her flying along behind you without an airplane
and thus her popping up anywhere to give you the zombie stare.
Wow I am trying to sift the reality from your literary exaggeration. I'm not sure I can tell the difference this time. Were you in fact dreaming?
you so make stuff up...
he he! Fun post!
I have to admit, though, I was waiting for a semi-necrophilial love story to emerge...:)
hmm, actually, the woman did exist and was constantly staring at all of us who were sleeping. Whether or not she was a zombie or not... well, who knows? Denver seems like such a great place for them.
Oh, and I didn't run screaming like a girl to the second level. I did wail a little bit though.
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