If I had to rate my current situation on a scale of one to ten, I'd give it a solid "Oh my god, we are all going to die."
I was currently falling. Not the metaphorical "falling behind on quarterly projections" kind of falling. I mean the literal, terminal velocity, wind-slapping-my-cheeks-like-an-angry-ex kind of falling.
Below me wasn't the grey pavement of the financial district. It was a forest. A very purple, very bioluminescent forest that looked like a rave vomited over a national park. To my left, a bird the size of a Cessna was trying to eat a cloud.
"This is not optimal!" I screamed, the wind tearing the words from my throat. "This wasn't in the itinerary!"
I tried to grab onto something, anything, but my hands only clawed at the air. My glasses were miraculously glued to my face, probably out of sheer terror. I checked my wristwatch. 11:58 PM.
Great. I was going to miss the midnight deadline for the Q3 merger. My boss was going to kill me.
Assuming the ground didn't do it first.