Perverts, hundreds of panty sniffing perverts, New York was filled with them. I’m sure of it. Sasquatch men clutching knives and chemical covered rags ready to take my panties and inhale their scent into their systems like fiends. This was my dream. Not to be raped, murdered or killed but the adrenaline rush of new experiences, new beginnings. I was going to the city where dreams came true and sometimes people died from the desperation of it. The melting pot.
I removed my headphones from one of my ears and began to play with my mother, British accent mimicking old movies. “Would you like a spot of tea? Would you like a spot of tea as this plane goes down? Hmm Mum?” I received a slap upside the head. I grazed fingers through my red mane. Shocked but not shocked. After five years, speaking about a plane going down was definitely not the thing to do. Even if 9/11 never happened, she would have slapped me for annoying her while she tried to find herself drifting into the arms of the Sandman.