Hotlanta mess part deux

After a not-so tough day at the office, I was sitting on the train thinking about dinner and how delish it would be when I received the text that turned me into "that crazy woman on the train". Boop was on her way home from the business trip and the following is exactly what I read (and wrote):

BOOP: Fell at baggage claim carousel in front of a million peeps. Am drunken 1st class rock star - again!

JEN: Let me blog about that one! You are nuts

BOOP: All yours. Am too drunk and fab to write. Doing my part to entertain in recession. Two people picked me up when I fell. Too sloshed to feel shame.


Now, I have a few questions:

One - How was she too drunk to walk but made absolutely NO typos in the entire thread of texts? I suppose it a testament to her writing prowess.

Two - How hard were the security guards lauging behind the one way mirrors?

Three - How do I get the video footage that HAS to exist to be leaked to the media?

The only sounds on my train car up until that point were the occasional cough, sniffle, and zipping/unzipping of coats. As I read Boop's text and developed the accompanying mental picture, some new sounds could be heard: snorting, gasping for breath, wiping of tears of laughter, and apologies to those around me for disrupting their peaceful ride home.

Then it occured to me. Why the hell am I apologizing? Doesn't anyone have a sense of humor anymore? If I witnessed someone burst into sudden laughter it would be my instinct to laugh with them without even knowing what happened. Isn't laughter supposed to be contagious? Geez. I should be known as girl-who-has-way-too-much-fun-on-Metra. But alas, I think I am crazy-girl-who-can't-control-herself-in-front-of-a-bunch-of-uptight-assholes.