Thursday, October 1, 2009


I'm not the best with dates, nor days of the week. I thought yesterday was Thursday. For some reason, I also thought that it was the night of the ZOMBIELAND zombie crawl in times square. I was wrong about the former, but dead on about the latter, thank g-d.

I got home from the gym and got ready to go to my (Thursday night) writing group. I took my shower and then wondered should I do my hair and make myself up all beautiful, because I know i know i'm gonna mess it up when I get zombie-fied later?

I said fuck it and set about my zombification in the relative comfort of my bedroom. After scaring the shit out of my roomate I went out and got on the BX-12 select bus, heading to the other side of the Bronx to catch the A-train down to W4. On the way there I enjoyed many a stare from my fellow passengers and quite a few unpleasant comments from people who think I don't understand Spanish. Hey buddy, that chiquita blanca beside you might know what's up!

Anyway I got to the 207th street bridge and we were stuck in traffic. My stomach was killing me and my head was swimming and I realized I had forgotten to take my daily medication. So I sent a text to my writing buddies and my friend Amy was kind enough to inform me that yesterday was, in fact, not a Thursday at all. So I grabbed another bus headed the other way, amusing the shit out of all the cabbies and commuters stuck at the light by Dallas BBQ.

Another fun filled trip back to the apartment, scared the shit out of the super in the elevator, then I was back in my room, swallowing my pills with a gulp of lukewarm diet coke. I grabbed a piece of bread and ran to the train station, just in time to see the 5 train pulling away. Oh well. I sat down and worked on my leg blood and eye bruises. The train ride was fairly jovial, with the highlights being the little Mexican girl who told me she loved zombies and tried to hug me before her mom pulled her to another car, and the Chinese guy on the W train who started howling like a werewolf and then singing some snappy little ditty which I think he made up. Oh, and the two thugged out brothas who got off at 125th street who wanted me to come to some Halloween stripper-party they were promoting. Thanks but no.
After a mad dash in the wrong direction and back again I finally found the bar, where my dear friends Doug, Blythe and Nick were already inside. Throngs of zombies stood outside, smoking cigarettes, texting, and bitching that the event had run out of tickets for the screening.

I showed up just in time to chug to disgusting red beers and then run outside with the crowd to start the crawl. I guess Woody Harrelson and the other stars came out at this point for a photo op, but I couldn't see jack so I was just cutting up with my buddies 'til things got moving.

Finally we were on the go and getting wild. Photographers were everywhere, recording the mayhem as we tackled each other and shuffled around on broken ankles, smearing blood on the lamp posts and ogling the diners at the fine establishments thereabout. Blythe and I went after a city bus and I screamed so much I lost my voice by the time we got to the AMC theater on 42nd st.

Now there was a big stinking line to wait in but I'm a New Yorker, I can deal with a line. I realized I needed to do something about my ticketless state and went through my bag for some materials. I fashioned myself a dandy facsimile of the white paper tickets, ripping some paper off the bottom of the critique I'd written for my fiction group (sorry Scott!) I then doused this "ticket" with a liberal dose of fake blood. Smelled like chocolate and worked like a charm.

Once I got in I looked around on the floor by the garbage bins and the bathroom, still keeping up with the crowd headed up several (non-functioning) escalators. I found a ticket, like I knew I would. Now here comes the best part.

I sat down with my dearly departed pals beside a small roped off set of seats. Woody Harrelson came in and sat down, he on the inside of his group, me on the outside. During a brief quiet moment before the crowd went apeshit, I leaned in to talk to him.

"Wanna know a secret?"

"Sure, what's that?"

"You're my favorite movie star."

"Really? Well thank you miss... What's your name?"

"I'm Oni, you know, like a little devil."

I made devil horns with my fingers and he looked confused.

"Pleased to meet you," he said, sticking out his hand to shake.

My hands were covered in fake blood but I went for it on impulse and shook. He has a nice handshake. Not too firm, no limp wristed girliness either. Our fingers kind of shlurped apart and he wiped his hands on his jeans.

"Sorry about that," I said, "It's all this fake blood."

He turned to the crowd of people who had gathered and started snapping pics, meeting kids, and signing autographs for them. He was very congenial for a famous guy. Then the movie started. It was very fun, and when Woody first came on stage I leapt half out of my seat, fist to the sky screaming, THATS MY BOY!!! He leaned forward and laughed at me, thumbs up.

Well. that was my first zombie crawl.

smell ya later.


  1. Awesome! There needs to be more zombie flicks.

  2. Awesome blog, always did want to go on a zombie crawl. Also can't wait for Romero's next flick to come out. Keep up the great work Oni, very enjoyable.