Listen, I don't know why they were after me, okay? I was just a young low-poly black man riding my bicycle around San Andreas, doing mad tricks and tricking mad do's. Does that last bit mean anything? Fuck you, that's who!
Sorry, sorry, got a bit off track. Okay, it's been a while so let me take you back to a time before the internet, all the way back to 2004! I mean 1992! Shhh! I was riding and hopping down a country road on my bike like I like when suddenly my brand new vintage 1992 cellular hellophone began to make that all too familiar ringtone I forget. I, being the prudent and upstanding citizen that I pretend to be, pulled over to the side of the road right in front of a quaint little farm in order to answer said phone in safe conditions.
You can't prove this wasn't my bike. I mean, it was on PS2 without mods at the time so this bike wasn't available to me, but you still can't prove this wasn't my bike!
The phone answered, there was nothing to do but to swing the camera around to get a more cinematic view of the hot man-on-mobile action. As I talked about stuff I wasn't listening to, that's when I heard it. A low hum. What was that? Was it Buzz Buzz from 10 years in the future!? The hum was getting louder. Sounding more engine-like. Was it Buzz Buzz from 100 years in the future!? I DON'T CARE IF THAT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE BUZZ BUZZ LIVES FOREVER DON'T SHIT ON MY DREAMS!!!
Oh, yeah, also, it was a plane. Yeah, a fucking plane suddenly came into view behind me, and being the prudent and upstanding citizen that I have in my blender, I sat slackjawed and watched as it flew closer and lower, closer and lower, closer and lower, until the plane's left wing smacked the back of my head and sent me hurdling over my handlebars and onto the ground. All on its way to its ultimate destination, a massive explosion in the middle of a farmer's crop.
Confused and amused at the sudden interruption of my very unimportant phone call, I continued with my bicycle fuckery, hopping over cars and careening off of cliffs just for the pure joy of it. It was no more than 30 minutes of this before my joy was tragically cut short. You see, it's a well-known fact that watching where you are going leads to knowing where danger lies, and we can't have that. So I did what any prudent and upstanding citizen that shouldn't have knocked on my door would do and turned the camera around to stare at my beautiful blocky black face while rolling at high speeds through the wilderness. And things were good.
And then things were on fire, and I was on the ground again. Without warning, not even the hum of the engine, another plane wing smashed my teeth into the back of my skull before meeting its ultimate demise a few feet behind where my lifeless body was being animated. What an odd coincidence, I thought. Am I in the wrong place at the wrong time or did I piss off the wrong people?
I spent days pouring over the clues, and by that I mean more bike fuckery! I drove and I rode and I pedaled and I jumped over entire houses because San Andreas was kind of fucking insane like that in the 90's of 2004. And then I found myself in downtown Los Santos maybe an hour or so after the last plane crash. And it was here that my mission changed. Changed in that I decided to actually take on some missions, so I stopped in at one of the largest Ammunations in the San Andreas tri-city area. Kitted up the butt with guns and bombs and their bombs and their guns, in your head, in your head, they are dying! Zombay! Zombay!
Sorry, 90's flashback...
Right, I had all the weapons and shit and I was walking down the sidewalk all cool-like when suddenly that fucking phone again. So I answer it and of course swing the camera around to the front. I'm walking, I'm talking, and it's looking beautiful. The streets are full of people, the roads are congested with heavy traffic, the lights of the giant Ammunation glowing behind me as I jay-walk across the street. Then I hear it...
But it doesn't matter, because by the time I'm hearing it, I'm already seeing it. A plane. A fucking jumbo goddamn jet this time! Down over the cars and straight into the Ammunation! Being the ultra-realistic simulation this was, the plane bounced harmlessly off the Ammunation building and plummeted straight to the ground, where it did what any prudent and upstanding citizen that will not be missed because his family is next would do and exploded all over the cars and people. And the cars, being wonderful and caring activists, did their part to spread this beautiful message of fiery death one by one, up the road towards where I stood, slackjawed, bewildered, and frozen with rapt attention at the wonderment and bounty that had befallen me this glorious day!
An artist's rendering of what the scene could have looked like if it hadn't looked like shit.
As I walked out of the hospital, I may have been poorer in dollars, but I was richer in spirit, for I had witnessed something I have never been able to duplicate. For an hour and a half, the game literally threw planes at me until I died. I don't know why, but there was some sort of imaginary A.I. terrorist cell that really, really wanted me dead. But more importantly than that, for about 10 paragraphs I haven't made a single 9/11 joke.