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"You sure?" he asked, looking at me with renewed skepticism. The prank was coming apart, I could feel it. I just needed to get everyone out of there safely. "I'm sure," I said, backing toward the entrance where the limo awaited. There was a small raised lip to the service door, and I tripped over it with a loud BANG, staggering backwards. "HEY!" shouted the producer as I tripped. "Come here." I resisted the urge to turn and run. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the team piling into the limousine. We were so close. "Yes?" I asked. "Do you have a card?" he asked me. "Yes," I said, opening my wallet and pulling out the fake card I had produced at Kinko's. "Yes, I do."  As he stood there examining it, I quickly entered the limo and asked the driver to take us away, somewhere, anywhere but here. "Where you want to go?" asked the driver, who I'm pretty sure had figured out it wasn't Michael Jackson. I let out a long sigh. "How far of a drive is Bahrain?" INVINCIBLE We awoke the next morning to a media frenzy. Every news station in Boston picked up the story; it even made the front page of the Boston Herald. Most reporters saw through the disguise, but the story was still irresistible: an unknown gang of pranksters made their way into a black-tie fundraiser, got the V.I.P. treatment, then left with only an anonymous donation.  The donation was the detail that made the story great. Sure, we successfully got in and out of the concert without dropping character. Sure, we covered our tracks so well that even the world media couldn't track us down. But it was the donation that added the touch of class. And so in the end, it was Michael Jackson's credit card that made the stunt newsworthy. Thank you, credit card companies. Thank you for your complete disregard of our privacy, which allowed us to impersonate the world's greatest superstar for one glorious night. |
