When I awoke from my long night of rest, my heart began to pound out of my chest and my eyes widened. I dramatically noticed that I was not in my own room with my Beatle posters and my television set. I was in a completely different room. Even the bed I was sleeping in was not the same. The bed was big and the room almost looked like a hotel suite. There was a small balcony outside, and there was a chair next to the balcony with a luggage case opened with neatly folded clothes and an envelope on top. 

My first impression was that this has to be a dream. How can I be kidnapped? The doors should be locked at my house? How can anybody just break into my house and steal me? I'm not that important to steal. I slowly got out of bed and surprisingly enough I still had my silk, pink, pajamas on. I curiously gazed at my surroundings and I decided to take a look at the envelope. As I went towards the chair, I looked down at the envelope and opened the envelope. I was hoping that there could be clues about who took me or where I was at. Once I opened the envelope, I pulled out what appeared to be a plane ticket. The plane ticket read, " First Name: Paul. Middle Name: James. Last Name: McCartney. First Class. Round Trip from London, England to New York City, New York. Departure: Feburary 7th , 1964: 8:00 a.m. Arrival: Feburary 7th, 1964l: 2:00 p.m. " After I read the plane ticket, I was in total shock. I felt the plane ticket slowly slide out of my hands as I heard it plop onto the hardwood floor. How could this be? Why would Paul McCartney kidnap me? And wait. 1964???? Did they mess up the year? Shouldn't the plane ticket read 2017? There has to be a mistake. I shook my head and tried to get myself together. Maybe there's a crazy guy that is trying to pretend that he's one of the Beatles and he steals girls? 

Whatever the situation is, I have to find a way back home to Iowa somehow even though I have no money and no clothes. How am I going to get back? My heart kept pounding rapidly out of my chest as I tried hard to figure out different ways to leave. I walked over to the balcony and went outside. I could see my breath coming out of my mouth and had goosebumps all over my skin. The weather was definitely not warm. There was tiny snow flakes coming down and in front of me were gigantic skyscrapers. In the distance I automatically noticed the Empire State Building and down below were dozens of tiny cars driving around. I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself as I quickly went back inside to get warm. 

"What am I going to do? What if the kidnapper is right outside the room?" I asked myself in a whisper. "I gotta get out of here." I said confidently. I tiptoed across the floor with my barefeet and went over to the door. I started to quiver nervously as I slowly turned the knob of the door and took a little peak from the crack of the door. Each inch of the door I opened, I noticed that there was nobody insight except a couch, several chairs, and what appears to be a 60s television set with an antenna sticking out on top. My breathing became uneven as I quietly stepped out of my room without making any sound. The room was very big and there was even a large kitchen. I noticed there were a few instruments laying around beside the end of the couch. There was a Rickenbacker 325 and a Hofner bass sitting perfectly by the couch, and on the coffee table were a mess of papers, a pen, and drum sticks. I made a curious look on my face and felt a bit odd that this kidnapper would have all these instruments like the Beatles would have. This person must be a real nut case. 

I curiously took a look at the papers on the coffee table to see if there are any more clues about my kidnapping. When I picked up one of the papers, the paper had very jagged handwriting that almost looked exactly like John Lennon's. The paper looked like music lyrics for a song and at the top the title read, "Eight Day's A Week". I shook my head and snickered to myself, "Damn...this person is good. Whoever he is, he could be a great Beatle impersonator." I said quietly to myself as I set the paper back down. I decided to go over to the neat television set and turn on the tv curiously for any news of kidnapping or news about this creep that stole me. I turned the dial on the television set and automatically the Ed Sullivan Show appeared. The show was in black and white, and the television was a little hazy as Ed Sullivan himself appeared on stage. "It was a great pleasure to have these young lads from Liverpool to perfom for us. Now we have Dave Clark Five!" he announced as the Dave Clark Five band appeared with their instruments and I could hear the girls scream violently in the background. Everything looked so real, the show, all the objects in this room, the smell, the sights. This couldn't be a dream, but is it? How can Ed Sullivan still be alive? Why does the Dave Clark Five band look so young and vibrant? Maybe this is just a recording, but how? There's no VHS or DVD player on this television set. I quickly turned the tv off and backed up, feeling horrified and lost. I had no clue what's going on and if I'm in a dream or if this is real. I noticed a calendar over by the refridgerator in the kitchen so I rushed over to it. "This has to be a dream! This has to be a dream!" I said nervously to myself as I briskly went towards the calendar. I took a quick look at the year on the calendar and the year clearly read, "Feburary 1964". "You got to be kidding me? This guy is really into the 60s and think he's Paul. Ok, I'm getting out of here." I said as I backed away from the calendar and went straight towards the door, but as soon as I placed my hand on the door knob, I heard a door open behind me.

There were several other rooms to this hotel suite, and I quickly turned around as I watched the door open. I panicked horribly as I raced back to the room I came from, and I shut the door quietly; except for a crack to take a look at who my kidnapper looked like.