This week, the Heave staff was asked:
In honor of Gravity, what’s the scariest place you could possibly find yourself stranded, and why?
Probably the Republican National Convention. Zing!
Most likely buried alive, underground, in a coffin full of spiders.
Out on the ocean. I don’t think there is anything scarier than the middle of the ocean at night.
I think that being stranded out at sea would be far more frightening than being stranded in space. This is morbid, but at least if you die in space, odds are that it will be immediate and therefore painless. I don’t fancy drowning, being eaten by a shark or whatever else menacing lives in the ocean, or dying of dehydration/sun exposure. All of those things sound like they hurt.
America. If there’s a scarier place, I haven’t been there. Because I don’t have money to travel, because I don’t have a job, because this country (yells into pillow). I mean seriously, the government shut down and now even more people are out of work. And Republicans are happy about this?
Speaking from experience, I’ll go with “a considerably sized suburban strip mall on a Sunday afternoon during the winter.” Nothing is more hellish than the sounds of exasperated parents negotiating the tedium of running errands they don’t want to be running on behalf of the kids who’re currently making their lives an unmitigated hell. People give parents shit for yelling at their kids, but I truly don’t understand how you’re supposed to handle a tiny person who can’t stop running behind cars as they leave parking spaces and screaming about how they want to go to GameStop now.