Good thing nobody got hurt
This is what I get for reading about abandoned subways before bed. My Metro train wouldn't stop. No one else seemed to notice, so first I tried to get a wireless signal and stop the train that way. But nothing connected. I walked to the front of the car, found the driver's room open and pressed the red stop button. No luck. I moved to the front of the next car and tried the same. No luck. Finally I reached the front of the train and hit the stop button as the train ran out of track. It slowed just enough to fly through a door, across a pretty empty waiting room, car after car after car, into my empty grade-school cafeteria, down a flight of stairs, with cars pinballing around the room, at last stopping.
I got off the train expecting chaos, but all the passengers seemed to melt away. An investigator stopped by to look at the train, but no one else did. I stood around waiting for someone to talk to me, but no one did. Soon enough an old-fashioned train flew down the stairs and into the cafeteria, same way my subway train had, and all my train cars seemed to disappear and nobody seemed to mind that either. Dwight Schrute may have been driving that train. Alone in the cafeteria once again, I got bored and went looking for an investigator. Found one, but he said to hang on and that someone would talk to me later. He said he'd seen my ties on the Internet and asked why they hadn't worked. I said I couldn't get connected, and that satisfied him.
I went to my newsroom, apparently on another floor of the building. I nearly fell over a ledge where I thought stairs were, but I jumped back and someone said the stairs were on the other side. Went down them, but then found a low wall and row of desks blocking entry. Tried to go under the desk fence one way, couldn't fit, had to step over it another, beyond a few more desks and plants. The space I stepped into had something to do with opinion, and Jim Halpert worked there. He was surprised and amused to hear I'd been driving the subway train. But he didn't care too much. I went looking for someone who did, maybe a transit reporter or someone, and wondered why I hadn't tried to call the newsroom earlier. But I wasn't too bothered. Then I woke up.
February 1st, 2010 at 8:29 AM
Dwight was driving that train, high on cocaine.
Cafeteria? Don't you mean auditorium?
February 1st, 2010 at 8:44 AM
Some day, I'll explain here how the auditorium was the cafeteria, the parking lot was the playground, the back steps were the front steps, and so on. Others? Until then, we go for the easier explanation.