One Man's Oyster

As you know Mr. Bunndini and his crew recently vacationed on a small island off the coast. We discovered that being in a car on multiple ferries in a dark rainy wind storm makes one think about the worst things in life and how to avoid them at any cost thus I give you a personalized detailed account of the worse case scenario for each of us:  

Mr. Bunndni's personal hell
There is a severe earthquake warning and I'm in a freezing cold underground parking lot camping under precarious scaffolding. It smells like a cross between hobo body odor and dried cat urine. The radio is stuck between stations playing Vivaldi's Four Seasons and Billy Joel's "We Didn't Start The Fire. I'm wearing control top pantyhose, I have to pee, I haven't washed my hands in a week and my lips are really chapped but I have no chap stick. My mother is loudly reciting Alligator Pie with her mouth full of egg salad sandwich while Celine Dion is enthusiastically trying to toilet train a whiny toddler.  I'm moving heavy boxes and a barbershop quartet who all have to blow their noses are frantically trying to get my attention. All dogs and monkeys refuse to wear sweaters. 


Dr. Mavis Stapler's personal hell:
You are driving a car on a rainy highway at night going to the dentist to get all four wisdom teeth removed under a light local anesthetic. In the front passenger seat is a nail-biting gum-chewing old man with a serious sinus infection who has not washed his hair in a month. In the back seat is a condescending new mother loudly eating soup sitting next to a sweaty knuckle-popping teenager who is jiggling his leg aggressively which is in turn kicking the back of your seat repeatedly. They are all having separate conversations and are all mad at you for various unexplained reasons. There is no science. 


Pollyanna's personal hell: 
You are in a spider infested plane in a turbulent lightning storm heading to a winter hot air balloon competition in Timmins Ontario which you being forced to compete in. You are in the middle seat sandwiched between an annoying married couple who are animatedly talking about kittens while simultaneously doing tequila shots. The plane is full of unruly children and their ineffectual parents. The smell of lavender is in the air and you just ate a giant bowl of raw onions. As the plane prepares for an emergency landing you find yourself being spooned by a large stranger whose forehead sweat drips on your face like Chinese water torture while another stranger massages your feet and tells you what a failure you are. Someone is cooking ground beef in the overhead luggage compartment. You are lactose intolerant.


Mango Sister's personal hell:
First you pee in a filthy gas station washroom that had neither soap, water or paper towels and the door handle is covered in melted Oh Henry bar. Then you get on a sailboat in a storm with your extremely drunk father who is repeatedly belching while in the midst of a serious anxiety attack. He has cooked you a dinner of humus dahl which he prepared after a particularly violent diarrhea session which he neglected to wash his hands after. The food may have been left on a vomit strewn counter for two to five days. You fall overboard and once your father is done making comments about your breast size he rescues you but you cannot change out of your wet cold clothes and have to sleep in them all night with a raging bladder infection and no blanket listening to your drunk aunt smacking her lips beside you. The air is rife with the odor of peanuts. 


* Some names have been changed to protect the innocent.