by Thomas Davidson
The Bermuda Triangle is actually the Bermuda Trapezoid, defined by points in Bermuda, San Juan, Miami, and Fort Lee, New Jersey.
Map of the Bermuda Trapezoid
(U.S. Dept. of Paranormal Oceanography)
The Bermuda Trapezoid is infamous for “swallowing” cargo ships and airplanes. American sunbathers crossing the Atlantic on air mattresses are especially at risk. Recently, a Royal Caribbean ship cut short a 10-day cruise after 700 passengers and crew fell ill with vomiting and diarrhea. The captain admitted, “The ship passed near the edge of the Bermuda Trapezoid for five measly minutes—then the shit hit the fan. It was a gastrointestinal tsunami.”
So last year the U.S. Navy put traffic cones on the Bermuda Trapezoid sea lanes for sailing safety. Their bright orange color ensured visibility, even at times of maximum distraction (e.g., Godzilla attacks your air mattress, bites the plastic, steals the valve cap). If you cruised between the floating cones, you wouldn’t vanish or time-travel to 2040.
Godzilla sees “pastrami on rye”
(sunbather on air mattress)
So far, so good. But here the tale gets twisted. A trapezoid has two parallel sides, and here are two parallel stories. Ready?
On Dec. 5, 1945, a squadron of five U.S. Navy torpedo bombers disappeared during a routine training exercise. Sixty-eight years later, several hundred cones vanished from the choppy waters near the Bahamas. Coincidence?
September 9, 2013. Miami, Florida, 6:32 a.m.
Before losing radio contact off the coast of southern Florida, an airline pilot was reportedly heard saying: “Everything looks strange, even the ocean,” and “We are entering white water, nothing seems right. Traffic…traffic cones have…invaded our air space…”
Later that same day, 1376 miles north of Miami.
September 9, 2013. Fort Lee, New Jersey, 1:36 p.m.
Lewy Koogler, age 40, was sitting inside Fort Lee Cineplex, watching Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs 2. Brats jammed the matinee. Lewy, a lifelong fan of animated movies, sat alone in the dark amid flying candy and popcorn hail, spellbound by foodimals and cartoon violence.
The spell popped when an orange traffic cone dropped through a time/space portal in the theater’s roof, and landed on his lap like a pumpkin. For a fuzzy moment, he saw a tall top hat for a Dr. Seuss cat. Lewy cried out, confused, clasping the cone as if he were under attack. Excited, he hyperventilated, his head thrown back and eyes rolling.
Amid the merry laughter of hundreds of children enraptured by Meatballs 2, an adult’s strangled cry rose above the din.
Lewy Koogler
Within seconds, a beam of light blinded Lewy. A horrified teen usher appeared, aiming his flashlight at a pop-eyed adult fondling a traffic cone on his lap. The usher grimaced as if stepping in dogshit. He turned away, whistled, his flashlight beam finding another usher at the top of the aisle.
Within minutes, the Fort Lee Police arrived at the theatre.
The arresting officer scanned the crowd of innocent kids, turned back to Lewy and said, “You towering turd of turpitude!”
The second officer hissed, “A registered cone offender. You total peesa… “
“Whuh?” Lewy said. “What’d I—”
“You’re under arrest.” Officer #1 whacked the road marker with his nightstick. “Lewd conduct with a sex toy.”
Handcuffed, Lewy was whisked outside to a patrol car, and booted into the backseat. He left the theatre behind, but not the drama. ACT TWO of the Traffic Cone Tragedy had just begun.
Intermission
(This exposé will resume in 2 seconds)
On the drive to the Fort Lee Police Station, Officer #2 turned to his partner at the wheel. “Cuffing perverts gives me munchies. Let’s get some coconut donuts in Manhattan.”
FAMOUS LAST WORDS
“WTF, let’s get a donut.”
Soon they were midway on the George Washington Bridge, heading into Manhattan. Lewy was having an EMERGCON-level panic attack. “This…this can’t be happening. I bought a ticket to an animated movie. Now I’m trapped in a Franz Kafka cartoon. Oh my god, my mom’s gonna kill me. Pull over, I gotta puke.”
Officer #2 turned, shook his fist at Lewy. “So help me, you touch your cone…”
Then it happened. The sky screamed.
A squadron of five U.S. Navy torpedo bombers, circa 1945, suddenly appeared in thin air directly over the bridge.
Officer #1 knuckled the windshield. “Jumpin’ Jesus!”
The bombers opened their hatches in celestial sync. Traffic cones rained from the sky like cluster bombs, landing upright in perfect rows on the GW Bridge.
The bombers whooshed into the clouds, time traveling to 2040 or beyond. A moment later, the squad car dematerialized—POOF!—and was never seen again.
Godzilla soils Hudson River
Before losing radio contact from the bridge, Officer #2 was reportedly heard saying: “Everything looks strange…Godzilla is standing up and taking a whiz in the Hudson…sex toys line the highway…We are entering a pointless traffic study…”
Last, we leave you with these two images.
Lewy Koogler heads toward the white light…
…and the Governor is off the hook.
- UPDATE -
ITEM #1: The FLPD released this photo today. An unidentified Fort Lee Police spokesperson explained, “These traffic cones were found scattered across Fort Lee Public Beach. The traffic cone cleanup is ongoing. No further comment at this time.”
A ton of irrefutable evidence
ITEM #2: Fort Lee beach bum, Starla Owens—hittin’ the sand, coppin’ the tan—was sunbathing when she heard thunder and looked skyward. She took this picture with her cell phone.
1945 “missing bomber” targets traffic cone on GW Bridge
Owens said, “When I saw orange candy corn drop from the clouds, I said to myself, ‘Starla, it’s the end of the world. My ass is curtains. It’s time to boogie on outa here!’”
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Thomas Davidson is the author of two quirky thrillers, THE MUSEUM OF SUDDEN DISAPPEARANCES and PAST IS PRESENT, and a new collection of humor, BOTCH CASSIDY & THE SUNDUNCE KID. He lives on a six-foot air mattress (with cup holder) on Boston’s Charles River. He was never awarded a MacArthur Fellowship for investigative reporting in the overlooked nexus of politics and the paranormal. Click below for his recent posts for ALL THINGS CRIME BLOG. Patrick Moore is his enabler.
The Mega Mack-Daddy of Illegitimate Daddies
Patty Hearst and the Symbionese Liberation Army Meet Paul McCartney — The Secret Link?
Botch Cassidy & the SunDunce Kid Hit the Home Depot
How the Little Drummer Boy Saved Christmas
website — www.thomas-davidson.com
blog — www.jurassicjim.blogspot.com
twitter litter — @TomDavidson99