My head spun thousands of stories in that 36 hour shift. I wrote all of em' on paper. There was the ghost story: the spirit of a slain security guard haunting on his colleagues . Then a comedy documenting a day in a life of five security guards at work (Clerks-esque). A suspense/thriller which involves a security guard/terrorist trying to bomb the American plant. Even, an erotic piece of being stuck in the post with a female colleague which ended up being a porno flick (this came up when the guy that should come after my shift did not turn up and I manned the post for 5 hours). And etc, etc.
The whole point of reminiscing this is realizing how much I miss being confined to a space that holds the conditions of the stories that I imagine & write. The senses work better, I suppose.
Note: So Jay, y'know, we should really find a place that we can confine ourselves to and attempt to draft the complete script based on the restricted conditions. What do you think?