February 5, 2005

    After three days in a cramped, stifling van, I arrive at a place all the way in the northern U. S. of A. at Plymouth Plantation. Teresa takes me to an innocuous looking bush and tells me, "Now, try not to write your entries in blood like your last customer did!" and slipped, dropping a bunch of post-it notes into the bush. As I scurried under, I heard a "Have a good trip!" then I blacked out for a few minutes. When I awoke, I noticed that the inside of the bush appeared to be a spherical chamber looking like it was made out of hundreds of Mobius strips. I remembered that I, being an avid reader, had stumbled on an Isaac Asimov book that described this situation as no less than a time-space vortex. As I looked more closely at the time-space vortex, I noticed that each Mobius band had a different date on it. In a few moments, the sphere had disintegrated except one mobius band with the date December 29, 1831, which grew to the size of me and let me ride it like a magic carpet. It zipped through the swirling blue vortex, passing portals with strange, magnificent pictures, before landing at a particularly unimpressive portal and dumping me into it.