You would not believe how much thought I’ve given this. I watch a lot of zombie movies. New York is actually a pretty good place to be if stuff goes down, since zombies can hide anywhere in rural areas. Yeah, more people means more zombies, but it’s easier to protect an apartment than a house. The second I hear zombies are out there, I go home and barricade the building. Then I get all neighbors to help block the doors, fire escapes, whatever. There should be enough food and water in all the apartments to last for a while, so we can sit tight or go to the roof to signal for helicopters or drop stuff on them. I’m sure some of my neighbors have guns.
Zombies, always zombies! I’m sick of zombies. I don’t have a plan. If I’m in the cab, I go get my kids and then drive out of the city. Just keep moving. I have no idea. There is no such thing as zombies. [You don’t want to use the cab to plow them over?] No, that’s dumb. What happens if they shatter the window or manage to hang onto the car? Then you’re fucked.
I don’t think I would last long in a zombie apocalypse. I’m fat and I’m slow—the perfect target. My only hope is staying in my apartment, but then it won’t be long before I starve to death. I’m pretty much screwed either way. My only plan might be to kill myself if I was trapped, since I’d rather not feel my brains get eaten. Braaaaaaains.
The Lower East Side
Let me picture it. [Shuts eyes, thinks.] Ok. I’m standing on top of a crashed school bus and I have crossbows in each hand, and I’m just blasting away at them like Schwarzenegger as they try and crawl up the bus. [How’d you get two crossbows?] I just have them. And I have these ammo belts across my chest and my muscles are just huge.