Who am I to challenge the wisdom of the crowd, you think, joining those you are running away from the area of the Capitol building. You’re tempted to look back, to see what you’re actually fleeing from, but this seems like an unnecessary risk. If all these people have seen something terrifying, that’s good enough for you.

In less than a block, you cross the street and dart to the east side of the Radisson building, your back to the exterior wall. Many people are continuing to run down Michigan Avenue, and you figure that whatever’s chasing them might run right past you if you stay out of sight.

You feel, as well as hear, a strange sort of low animal growl. It occurs to you that perhaps people are running from some sort of large animal, like a black bear or a cheetah. You remember hearing stories of a 3,000-pound elephant which escaped from a circus and rampaged through the streets of Lansing in the 1960s. Was something like that happening again?

The creature is getting closer. Soon it will walk right past your vantage point. You believe you’ve prepared yourself for anything. But nothing could have prepared you for this.

A dragon.

With wings which extend the width of Michigan Avenue, the scaly creature half-walks, half-glides down the street, occasionally stopping to spew fire into the air in a show of overwhelming force. It turns north on Grand right in front of you, and as you’re paralyzed with fear, you watch it lunge toward the enclosed glass walkway which connects the hotel and the Lansing Center, crushing the structure and sending a large chunk tumbling into the Grand River.

Your back is still pressed tight against the brick wall of the Radisson as the dragon rages for a moment, thrashing its bifurcated tail against a small tree, uprooting it from the ground.

It then, inexplicably, turns to you.

Do you:

Step up to challenge the dragon.

Or:

Run back down Michigan toward Washington Square.