But if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. I then travelled with the zombie swarm through the streets of San Francisco, grunting and shouting for brains.
I've been writing about the shambling dead for a while now. I take this shit seriously, and I was determined, from the moment I was attacked and turned into a zombie, not to break character for the rest of the march. It got tough when the corn syrup on my face dried and I got an itch on my nose, but I staggered on.
I was surprised, even in this city, how many people ignored the whole thing, just walked past a giant crowd of undead in the streets. Other people loved us, miming screams as we crossed the streets in front of their cars and behaved in a surprisingly conscientious manner. One human even suggested I eat her brains and, being the considerate fellow I am, I obliged.
The event never quite had the critical mass to feel completely out of control, but I had fun and got to meet other zombie enthusiasts. Even though I got killed to have a good time, I'd do it again. Undeath gives us all a second chance.
