My Final Destination: Home

You know that feeling when you step out of the theatre after a movie and the whole world feels different? Like you're somehow part of the world you've just spent the last few hours inhabiting? It’s a powerful feeling, one that can turn everyday experiences, like a commute home, into a thrilling journey. Pure main character energy. Well, that’s how I felt after watching Final Destination: Bloodlines. I had a blast watching it, and actually found myself really rooting for all the characters to survive. This franchise is a lot more fun to watch when you are hoping against hope that they will find a way to outsmart Death this time.

But if we're being honest, I wasn't there for the story. Nobody was. The real reason I watch Final Destination movies is to see what crazy scenarios the filmmakers dream up in order to murder their characters with everyday objects. It's like Dumb Ways To Die on steroids. Maybe I'm sadistic, but if I am, so was everyone else in the theatre. The gasps, groans, and muffled giggles at each gory display were half the fun of seeing this in the theatre. After the lights came up and the audience started to file out, everyone was debating their favourite kill. I, however, was frozen to my seat by what I can only describe as the worst kind of main character energy imaginable.

A tidal wave of doom slammed into me the second the credits rolled on Bloodlines. In my mind's eye, I saw the peril that awaited me on my way home. A neon sign, a speeding car, fire, blood, death. It was coming for me next. I could feel it. I'd just watched a bunch of people do everything that they could to outsmart Death for two hours. I'd laughed at their plight. And now I was next.

There's no way. It's just a movie, I forced myself to think. I pushed my way out of my seat and met my friend, who I had dragged with me to the theatre, at the end of the aisle. She seemed confused by the delay, but didn't ask. I couldn't bring myself to explain.

As we exited the theatre, a breeze that came from nowhere blew errant popcorn kernels across my path, and the neon lights that had been cheerful a moment ago now seemed garish and poorly maintained.

The neon lights.

Without a second thought, I dove out from under the sign just as it came crashing to the floor, spewing glass shards and asphyxiating gas everywhere. I grabbed my friend and we ran the rest of the way out of the theatre, still clutching our empty soda cups. This wasn't just a movie anymore.

"Holy shit!" yelled my friend, "That was crazy!"

"We have to go," I said. I ushered her towards the main doors. We had two choices: escalator or stairs. Usually this would be a no brainer, no moving parts on the manual stairs. And we've all seen FD 4, but as I looked around for what would be thrown at me next, I saw the unfinished scaffolding hanging ominously over the stairs. Of course the mall was under construction. Reluctantly, I headed to the escalator, which seemed to be baring its teeth.

I eyed the jagged steps carefully, wary of any sounds that might point to faulty machinery. I stood stock still. I was so focused on myself that I forgot to check on my friend. I didn't notice that her shoelace was untied. Halfway down, she started muttering and pulling at her shoe, now stuck in the jaws of the escalator. Instantly panicked, I yanked as hard as I could to free her. After a few seconds that felt like years, her lace gave way and we stumbled down the remaining steps, fighting to keep our balance. Next to us, a piece of steel came loose from the scaffolding above and careened down to the floor, where it stuck straight up in the second to last step, taunting me.

My friend and I didn't exchange any words. We just got the hell out of there.

It was freshly dark when we stepped outside into the city. We'd picked a theatre in the not-so-nice part of town for the cheaper ticket price, but I was regretting my thriftiness now. The literal flickering streetlight was doing nothing to lessen my anxiety. And that pesky breeze was still blowing. Somehow, I could hear wind chimes in the city. Wind chimes!

I watched everyone around us like a hawk, dodging out of the way of a newspaper picked up by the wind. It hit a stranger behind me in the face instead, who started to stumble backwards. I managed to grab the stranger just before they teetered backwards over a barrier covering subway construction. I didn't stop to check on them. A sign at the intersection flashed continuously: CAUTION. PROCEED AT OWN RISK.

To reach the bus stop, we had to cross the street. Usually, I would be pretty lax when it came to following the crossing lights this late in the evening. Not so tonight. I waited patiently for the pixelated pedestrian to tell me it was safe to cross. We were halfway to the other side when it started flickering. I glanced to my right. The lights said go in all four directions. I threw out my arm to stop my friend, just as a bus came barrelling through the intersection, horn blaring. I could have reached out to touch it. We sprinted the rest of the way to our stop. I silently begged for the bus to come on time, for once.

No such luck. When the bus finally did arrive my relief was short lived. As we boarded and beelined for two available seats near the back, I took in my surroundings. If you've ever taken public transit in the city after 11p.m. you know the feeling. There was a drunk guy partially slumped over, a collection of oddballs and strange smells, a spilled drink rolling around the back, and a few people late getting home staring straight ahead with their headphones on, trying to drown it all out. I sat in my seat, painfully aware of my surroundings.

In my hypervigilant state, I was attuned to each shuffle of feet, every creaky chair. Our bus was one of the one's that folds in the middle, the accordion joint twisting ominously at every corner. We stayed as far away as possible from it, but that meant that we were right next to the heater. It didn't seem to be working. Every three minutes or so it burst into loud, sputtering life, drowning out what little conversation we could muster. I tried to regulate my breathing, but the image of fire that I had seen in the theatre pushed its way to the front of my brain.

We ended up standing for the rest of the ride.

My friend reached her stop before I did. As she got up to leave, we said a falsely cheery goodbye. I called after her as the doors closed: "Text me when you make it home!" Now I was all by myself on the bus. In the dark. With Death after me.

I thought about putting in my headphones to listen to some music, but decided against it. I had to be on my guard. I was just settling in when the bus driver lay on the horn, shattering what little calm I had managed to gather. The driver slammed on the brakes, and all of us passengers lurched forward in unison. The man who was sitting in the seat I had recently vacated smacked his head violently into the pole in front of him. I didn't hang around to see what happened to him. Before anyone else on the bus could gather themselves, I headed for the exit. I wasn't staying on this thing any longer. I'd take my chances with my own two feet.

As I stepped off, my jacket caught in the door as it snapped shut behind me. The driver started the engine up again, and the bus started to roll forward. I banged on the glass, trying to get someone's attention. I pulled at my jacket, trying desperately to free myself. I was nearly running now, trying to keep from being dragged off my feet.

I had one shot left. I threw myself backwards full force, flying away from the bus and onto the sidewalk. The wind was knocked out of me and my arms were all scraped up, but I was alive. For now. By the time I stumbled onto the street corner, my breath was coming in short gasps. The closer I got to home, the closer it felt to the end. I started off down the street, walking much faster than normal. I was going to turn this 15 minute walk into 8. My life depended on it.

Even the quiet residential streets now seemed poised to pounce. What was usually peaceful was now designed to trick me; lull me into a false sense of security. I sidestepped a crack in the concrete that I would have tripped on. A few feet up, where my head would have landed, was some kid's bicycle, broken wheel spindle pointing conveniently upward. Not this time.

One block later, I threw myself to the ground just in time to avoid a malfunctioning sprinkler that sprayed rusty metal bits directly into my path. Those bits surely would have lodged into my abdomen. Just as I reached my house, a sparking noise made me glance up at my door. My automatic porch light. Cautiously, I picked up a rock from the path and threw it in the direction of the sensor. The light flicked on and promptly exploded, bursting into flames. At this rate, I was going to die of a heart attack before I even reached my final destination: home.

I clumsily unlocked the door and jumped inside, flipping on the light switch and slamming the door closed simultaneously. I took a deep breath. I was covered in bruises, cuts, and likely deeply traumatized, but I was home. Before I went to bed, I triple-checked the door and window locks. I quadruple-checked that the oven was off.

I was so caught up in evading Death, that I didn't realize until morning that my friend never texted me that she made it home.