I had just arrived on the scene of the second accident this week. Cars were all lining up in parking lot surrounding a bus where a kid was hit by a car. He was sitting on the ground, propped up with the help of the EMT while he held his head. He had received a laceration across his forehead that refused to stop bleeding through the gauze that had been applied.
Grant Cardone was on location as well. I remembered seeing him as he was leaving the first accident that had occurred just a few days ago. I could recall him saying in one of his podcasts “You have to be everywhere at once.” This was his way of showing it. I approached him to introduce myself and after some small talk, he invited Christine and I to have lunch with his family.
Christine had already climbed aboard the bus and was patiently waiting for me to get on so the bus could depart. I popped my head in the doorway of the bus, just over the barrier that stood between the door and the front seat and told her to follow me off the bus.
We walked across the parking lot to Grant’s jet, and squeezed ourselves into the backseat along with another guy. This stranger sat in the middle of the backseat, fully rigged with a parachute but he never left the plane while in flight.
We arrived at a grocery store that was divided into a restaurant buffet. As we entered the building, everyone left their bags by the front door. I took about 20 steps into the restaurant before coming to the realization that I was no longer wearing pants. I turned back to grab some from my bags. This forced me to become separated from the group.
I reentered the restaurant only to B-line for the salad bar rather than aimlessly walk around looking for everyone. The lights were dim to the point that I couldn’t see all the available options. I filled my plate with spinach and cheese and approached the check out line. The woman from the register, with a look of frustration, criticized that my “salad” was not a salad. I argued with her for a minute before finally throwing my plate behind the bar, leaving the mess for her to clean up.
I walked around the seating area, skimming for familiar faces. Christine found me and guided me to the dessert bar to introduce the monstrous chocolate chip cinnamon rolls. The rolls were so large that all we could do was look at them. Any effort to take one would have surely left us with several injuries. She grabbed a chicken sausage from a pile, wrapped it in a chocolate chip pancake like a burrito, and handed it to me. I took one bite and was not satisfied. As we walked out of the store, I tossed it into the trash.
We approached the entrance to grab our bags, but they were no longer there. We looked around the room for a minute in hopes that they had been moved but soon gave up and left the building.
And then I woke up…