In a flash of blinding lights, I found myself in a completely new environment. Just moments ago, I was sitting in the dim-lit cockpit where I was passively monitoring the GPS and autopilot systems, when the whole sky and panel suddenly started glowed like the sun. I barely had one second to react when, instead of sitting, my feet were now trying to catch my weight under them with some imbalance on concrete. As in, instead of 40,000 feet in the air cruising at 700 knots I'm clearly on the ground and very stationary. What the hell?

I lifted my head to take in my surroundings and was even more confused by what I saw. Clearly, I'm in the middle of a city, surrounded by tall buildings with the sun barely shining on half of most of the buildings off to my right. It looked evening-time, although unmistakably still day, despite me firmly knowing that I took off only 2 hours or so ago for a night flight at 8pm. Not the most desirable time to fly but when clients want you to deliver them and their precious cargo to the next country over, you don't complain if you want to be paid handsomely.

Not knowing what else to do, I picked up my flight bag that thank GOD followed me to wherever this place is and started walking down the sidewalk. Unfortunately, I usually keep my phone in my personal bag and my iPad hanging on the yoke, so I had no devices with me able to give me any information of time, date, location, nothing.

Cursing at this fact, I continued taking in my surroundings. Despite the rather late evening hour—or, late for the 9-to-5ers—there's still plenty of bustle on the streets of the city. Even enough people walking along the sidewalk with me that I bumped into a few of them, not really gaining much attention from most despite my pilot get-up I'm still wearing.

Eventually I found myself tired, sore, and utterly confused, half-convinced I experienced a mental break to land me in this situation. So, I decided to stop and sit on the benches at the train station I ended up at. The fact that there was even a train station other than BART was confusing in of itself. I lived on the west coast of the United States where BART was the only train station.

Then again, it is entirely possible I'm not even in the U.S. anymore. Maybe I did fly all the way to my destination and my brain just decided to throw out any and all information from the last 24 or so hours. But then what was that light I saw?

As I continued to mull over what the hell could have happened, I decided to ask one of the few people at the station where I am.

I lifted my head and spotted a woman standing near the platform edge, clicking away at her phone to pass the time waiting for her train. The red puffer vest she wore slightly shone as it reflected the station's artificial lighting as the sun's light grew-ever dimmer. Choosing her as the best source of info, rather than the two men, I stood from the not-so-comfortable bench and walked over.

"Hi," I dragged the word, in my weird state reverting to the tone that all females use when they want to be cordial while asking for a favor—apologetic. She turned to her left so that she could look up at me. "I was a little tired on my way home from work and managed to get off at the wrong stop. I'm not really sure which one this is though…" I trailed off.

She softened her eyes in pitiful understanding with a small smile, making me think she'd done something similar in the past. "Oh no," she huffed a small laugh, "this is the Melford stop, the one right after Central City Business District Station."

Central City? It rang absolutely no bells and I know the destination of my flight was Sydney, not Central City. Letting a little of my puzzlement show, I prompted her with an innocent blink, "And where is that?"

"Um, near Lawrence?" When my face didn't change to one of understanding, her smile faltered in favor of concern. "South of St. Joseph." When her only response was another innocent blink, she continued, "Columbia? Topeka? Missouri?"

Missouri? How the hell did I end up in Missouri when I was just flying from Beijing to Sydney? As in, on the OPPOSITE side of the world?

"A-and what time is it? And the day?" my ever-expressive face probably showing my emotion akin to horror and that called "what the fuck".

"it's 7pm, October 15th" The lady looked almost as concerned as I did at that point. My own concern skyrocketing as she said the day. October 15th was almost a month ago. I took off in that beautiful Global 8000 at 8pm on November 8th. So I either time traveled or I'm missing nearly a YEAR'S worth of memories.

In a daze with my mind—well—boggled for lack of better words—and clouded by fear, definitely fear—I followed the woman onto next train that came. Likely because our short conversation created my only sense of familiarity in fucking Missouri of all places. Despite the situation, I took a second to ogle the train's rather fancy interior then settled my eyes on my view out a window seat a respectful distance away from the red-puffer lady.

The sky was completely dark now, sans some light pollution. I looked out the window, resting my head on my hand, elbow propped on the shallow sill. I wondered what the hell I thought I was going to get out of this impromptu train ride, but admitting to myself the train was definitely a hell of a lot warmer than outside.

What I was definitely not hoping to get out of it was the second biggest shock of the day.

As I sat, staring out the window at exactly the kind of forest you'd expect to see in Missouri while having my crisis of "what have I been doing the last year?" and "why can't I remember anything," there was a deafening explosion sound.

The next few moments were disorienting and hard to comprehend. All I know is one moment I was 50 feet in the air face down thinking I was going to fall to my death and the next I was safely on the ground watching as the train I just occupied was now derailed and burning in massive flames.

I want to cry. I'm sick of all of this. I find myself in the middle of a city I've never been to, I find out I'm missing a year's worth of memory, my feet and legs are sore from walking, now my spine is sore from literally being exploded out of a speeding train, and it's fucking cold and uncomfortable laying on the brush of this Missouri-style forest.

Some deity out there is definitely trying to mess with me.

I sagged my head in exasperation and utter frustration with tears clouding my eyes. In the glow of red and orange that illuminated the trees, brush, and dust in the air, I saw a contrasting icy blue brilliance that glimmered, establishing its own firm presence despite the overpowering red. I forced the tears to go away, clearing my vision to get a better look.

What I saw only added to my desire to hide in a cave and pretend the last couple hours didn't happen.

Standing a couple car's length away, were figures I'd only ever seen through a screen. Two figures both exuding their respective styles of power. Leonard Snart with his ice and pride. Then Barry Allen with his potent electrical charge and righteousness. The two figures stood, their domineer facing off in a battle of sheer male aggression-stance and wits I can't hear.

Again, I repeated my motto for the night, "What the actual fuck."