The Best Laid Plans Never Go Like You Thought

As she stood at the platform, her eyes fixated on the rotation of the wheels, which beckoned with their resounding repetitive "jump...jump...jump" chant chugging away like the gleeful anticipatory cries of a blood-thirsty crowd gathered below a ledge of a ten story building...she mustered up the stoic dignity of Greta Garbo in Anna Karenina - and took one step forward.

Much to her dismay it was the last train of the night and didn't have the desired effect she thought it would.

As she dusted herself off and composed as much of herself as humanly possible...she found that getting back up on the platform would take a feat of extraordinary power as she was wearing a calf-length pencil skirt which wouldn't shimmy up high enough over her knees for her to get a proper foothold.

She tried again and again...but looking remarkably like a carp flopping about in a dried up riverbed in the midst of its death throws, she garnered only laughter from the passing pedestrians who were much too busy rushing to their cars in order to jockey for positions in line to exit the parking garage than they were to help out a total stranger.

It was at this point she noticed she was missing one shoe and her other shoe was sporting a broken stiletto heel. It wasn't nearly as noticeable now, walking along the gravel (size grade #2) between the train rails as it was going to be when she finally found an access route to the landing...but it was clearly not as she envisioned the whole ordeal.

As she hobbled back to her car, teetering to and fro - she thought how ridiculous she must look - rather like a Weeble in those old television commercials...and if that wasn't bad enough...she now had that ludicrous catchphrase of that ad stuck in her head: "Weebles wobble but they don't fall down."

This is when it dawned on her...pretty much the same time as the sun was rising...that parking in the "Tow Away Zone" wasn't the brightest idea considering she'd probably now have to construct a plausible alibi to hide her exceedingly badly botched suicide attempt. Who would ever believe she just happened to fall face-first "by accident" - totally sober? "No one." she mumbled to herself.

As if it wasn't bad enough she'd have to retrieve her car (and pay more to get it out than the car was worth) from the impound lot, and fork over, oh, at least $150 for that "no parking" fiasco, but she'd also need to have her electricity turned back on (it really didn't make sense to pay the bill beforehand...considering).

All those thoughts raced through her head as she limped over to where a phone would be if she were in that 1935 Garbo film...but it wasn't as black and white as all that anymore...and phone booths were a thing of the past (altho technically they would have been a thing of the future in 1935) considering everyone had a cell phone nowadays.

Everyone that is besides her...as not only did she lose a heel off of a brand new $695 pair of Manolo Blahniks (it was illogical to buy the ones on sale...you know...considering she wasn't originally planning to pay that bill either when it came in the mail) - she also broke her cell phone's casing and all she had left was the capability to redial the last number...and that wasn't going to do her any good as the only call she could make made that annoying "blonkety blonk blonk" sound of the AT&T company's alert jingle informing her that in order for her cell phone to get turned back on she'd have to pay $259.73. Again, it wasn't logical prior to all the mishaps of the evening's events to have had the forethought of a "Plan B" just in case everything turned out as abysmally as it had.

She had visions of them finding her there...face up, with a delicate trickle of blood coming out the corner of the left side of her face as she lie there...in pristine condition otherwise, dressed head to toe to the nines. The next morning they'd find the note...eloquently written - a hodge-podge cut and paste compilation of the best suicide notes of Hollywood's Golden Age (stamped with the seal of approval by the studio head himself before they were ever shown to the police) all nicely spliced together. Oh, they'd get the impression she was of much higher class than she was...just a misunderstood tormented being who couldn't take it anymore living beneath her standing but way out of her means. Anyone reading it would be impressed...and this evening was going to be all about impressions.

"Great expectations meets its match...I bungled my own death. I had ONE thing to do - and I couldn't do it properly to save my life." How she chuckled through the tears about that line as she looked around for a worker, any worker. She took off both shoes and headed toward the elevator...someone from the ticket-taker's booth would have a phone. Maybe I can tell them it was a "great party". Yeah...that's it...sounds plausible. I'll tell them I left my purse in the limo before I boarded the train and it had my cell phone in it. And with her alibi looking half-believable, she dropped AT&T's broken excuse for technology right off the fifth floor parking deck.  A feeling of ill-begotten joy swept over her as it shattered into dozens of tiny flecks below.

As she turned around, one of the on-lookers from the long ago dispersed crowd stepped toward her. "You seem to be in need of a bit of assistance." he said with polished English precision diction. She wiped away a wayward tear and looked up to see a very handsome man in a Hugo Boss navy pinstripe suit (waistcoat and all) holding out his impeccably manicured hand, palm-up, waiting for her to play the next move. "Wow!"...she thought to herself as she put her hand in his..."I definitely hit the jackpot here with this guy. This day might actually turn out MUCH better than I ever expected."

And, in a way, it was...never once in her wildest dreams of that night did she ever imagine she'd be "victim # 1" of the "Railway Ripper".

Today's prompt was "the last train" and I didn't want to go with the old Monkees song...so I came up with this instead.  And for a redemption of sorts, in a way -- I also incorporated a more proper "shoe prompt" from yesterday in today's as well.

Please go on over to "We Work for Cheese" to read about all the other bloggers and their take on the train prompt today.

Day 17: Time

There are a few of these "theme" ideas which made me wonder. As I like to think out of the box and I'm not a photographer in the proper sense of the word...the photographs I have put on here, while not going to win any competition, reflect an image in my head. I'm more a writer (don't laugh) and I believe, because I see things in "scenes" when I write...I think I would be a good script writer...such as for films. So, when I do a few of these themes...I do them - probably with a bit of a different mind, than say, a serious photographer would. I don't think that's horribly wrong - it's probably just making real photographers roll their eyes the way I roll my eyes when I read "so-called" journalists writing for the Huffington Post. So, if I've evoked any rolling of the eyes from you...I completely understand. I've been learning a bit here, too. I'm just not a "setter-upper" - I'm more a take the photo and make it fit the theme. Give me a photo of a blank piece of paper and I'll give you a reason why I thought it represents the pyramids. But...I think that's not how proper photographers think...so I am definitely thinking out of their realm. You have all been nice to allow me into your world and to say such nice things about what I've done. And for that - I am grateful. Very much so.

Before I start cueing in the National Anthem for tugging on heartstrings effect, let's take a minute to give a shout out to Ziva - because, without her, we all wouldn't be on this photo-mission. And another shout out to all these remarkable people -- who just so happen to be my fellow participants in this photography non-contest: MikeWJ, Nicky and Mike, Mo, Meleah, John, aka nonamedufus, Bryan, aka Unfinished Person, Malisa, Nora, LaughingMom, Tanya, Elizabeth A., 00dozo, Cheryl, Kristen, Katherine, and, last -- but definitely not least, Ziva.

Day 17: My take on "Time"...

Clocks...hourglasses...sundials, the rising and setting sun, the phases of the moon, plants growing, flowers blooming, leaves falling off trees...all legitimate ways to get your point across about time.

I wanted mine to be more personal - to show the progression of time. It's not the first time to be done and it won't be the last...but it's my time, so to speak.

Below is a split photo of me...the left side (as you look at it) was when I was 26. It was my passport photo. The right side...is me, now, at 51 years old. Because of the angle of my chin in the right half...we couldn't merge it completely right and I didn't want to Photoshop any of the lines, shadows, or droopy bits away. Basically there's much more shadow under that part of my chin - but, as you age, parts of you keep growing...like the tips of your nose and your earlobes...or they probably just get saggier as that's what the rest of our bodies seem to do. Perhaps the chin changes, too. I know the little area - known as the "jowls" - get more prominent and sag as we get older. But other more subtle things seem to change as well. You can't really tell it - but I have much more hollow cheekbones now...and I have that "Greta Garbo" eyelid look going on. I actually like that bit. My lips seem thinner and they go a bit more down-turned than they used to...and my eyes aren't as wide open as they used to be. But...I don't think I've really wrinkled up like a prune...and for that, I am glad.

So...there you have it - my face...a block of time frozen forever by a shutter click. Twenty-five long years...my face spanning a quarter of a century...one score and five years ago. Either way you say it - it's been a while. Hopefully time will be on my side...for the next 25.

(Thanks go out to my son, Alex, who basically Photoshopped my two me's together - and would have been able to do the chin better if the angle wasn't as lopsided as it was...but he was the master morpher...not me.)