Anne was excited about joining the Galactic Kill Squad. Really, she was. Killing Galactic Man? That was like number one on her list of priorities.
Still, the first day had taken some of the winds out of her sails.
As Jennifer had explained on the phone one day earlier, Anne had to be at Bill Baggs Cape Florida by 5:30 AM, which meant she had to leave Boca Raton by 4:30 AM. That would’ve been tough under any circumstances, but it was made more difficult by the fact that Anne hadn’t been able to sleep.
So, bleary-eyed and driving in the dead of night, Anne drove to the state park. Things were worsened when she got there. Some guard (a white guy, because the dumb ones are always white guys) was all like, “Miss, the park is closed right now.”
To which she was all like, “I’m not here to go to the park.”
To which he was like, “Well ma’am you’re at the gate to get into the park, so I have to say it looks like you’re here to go to the park.”
To which she was like, “I get that people like this park ‘cause it’s a combination of beach and woods-y shit, but I literally don’t even care. I just have to meet a group of people here, and then they’re going to take me somewhere else. I don’t like parks. Do you see how pasty my face is?” She pointed to her pasty-white face. “Do I look like I enjoy parks or the beach?”
To which he was like, “Well, ma’am, I personally don’t pay much attention to the color of one’s skin. All I know is that you can’t get into this park.”
Anne banged her head against the steering wheel.
“Ma’am, please don’t do that.”
“How about you don’t be an idiot!” Anne yelled.
“Ma’am, that’s a really rude thing to say,” the guard said. “I’m going to have to ask you to not yell. It’s very early in the–”
The guard was cut off by the phone’s ringing. “Ma’am, I’m gonna have to get that.”
“Yeah,” Anne said. “Yeah, you should probably get that.”
Hands on the wheel and frustration mounting, Anne looked at the gate separating her from the park. In her head, she was like, Don’t drive your car through it, don’t drive your car through it, don’t drive your car through it.
“Uh-huh,” the guard said. “Oh, uh, really? Uh-huh.”
She thought about how much she hated the guard, and so her stream-of-consciousness warped. Drive your car through it, drive your car through it, do it, do it, do it.
“Who’d you say you were again?” The guard asked, standing in the guard booth and scratching his head. “Oh, that sounds… Yeah, okay.”
Anne imagined slamming her foot on the breaks and smashing through the gates and holy shit that would feel so good.
The guard opened the gate and yelled from the guardhouse, “Sorry for the holdup, miss. Looks like you can go through.”
That works too, Anne thought, though in all honesty she had sort of wanted to smash through the gate.