Tag Archives: Flying

Just an Excuse to Get a Cute New Carrier.

“Do you want a Xanax?”

“No thanks.”

“Are you going to have a drink?” I asked, as I crammed the stack of gossip magazines I’d bought for the flight in the seat pocket in front of me.

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” I was confused. My Boyfriend is not a big drinker but still, I could not fathom why anyone would ever want to fly sober.

“I don’t know,” he said and shrugged. And then he leaned down to The Cat’s carrier at his feet and unzipped the secret opening where he could pet her undetected.

“Oh my god,” I said. “You don’t want  to be out of it in case she freaks out!”

He smiled. “I just want to be prepared. For anything.”

And I knew in that moment that he meant not only The Cat, but me, and my reaction to this trip.

“You are the best man,” I said.

Continue reading Just an Excuse to Get a Cute New Carrier.

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Hometown Holiday Hot Mess. Part One.

“I AM FREAKING THE FUCK OUT!”

“I know, baby,” My Boyfriend said as he reached over from the driver’s seat and squeezed my knee. “But it’s okay. You’re okay.”

“I feel sketchy!” I cried, as I doubled over and attempted to take in huge gulps of air.

“You’re okay. Just lay the seat back and try to relax.”

It was the last day of my Christmas visit and we were on the way to SFO from our hometown to drop me off for my flight back to NYC. As we’ve all seen, I am not a good flyer under the best of circumstances but today with the added exhaustion, anxiety and nausea, I was not doing well. At all. I sat up and shielded my eyes as I looked out the window. Sausalito whizzed by, illuminated by the too-bright morning sunlight.

I laid the seat back and closed my eyes tightly. Then I whimpered, “I don’t understand why this is happening.”

“Well, we went big on Friday at Hometown Holiday Drinks,” My Boyfriend was saying. “And then yesterday at Lana’s brunch, you girls were hitting the champagne pretty hard.”

“I know, but I drank plenty of water last night and we went to bed early,” I said. “I should be okay.”

“Well, we haven’t had a lot of downtime overall,” he pointed out.

I opened my eyes and sniveled, “I kind of over-scheduled us, didn’t I?”

He smiled and reached to the backseat. “Here. Take my jacket and use it as a pillow. Try to get some rest.”

I took the jacket and folded it beneath my head. “I don’t feel well.” I looked up at him.

He looked down at me in pity. “Baby, if you’re not feeling better by the time we hit the bridge, I think we should change your flight to tomorrow.”

“But we’re trying to save money for visits!” I insisted.

“I know. But it’s only money. And it’s breaking my heart to see you like this.”

“I think I’m going to throw up,” I muttered.

“I think you’ve hit the wall,” he said.

“I think you’re right,” I replied.

Then I turned over and pulled the jacket over my head.

Continue reading Hometown Holiday Hot Mess. Part One.

I Went to Venice. And Amsterdam.

“This trip will change you for the better,” Sheri emailed me the morning of my departure. “I just know it.” Her comforting words were not having the desired effect. My hands still shook as I pulled out the pill bottle from my carry-on and we taxied to the runway at JFK.

My Practice Xanax Session the previous night had gone well. Although, I’d forced my friend Veronica to stay on the phone with me an hour after I’d taken it to make sure I wasn’t having any sort of adverse reaction. This made no sense of course, as she lives in Portland and there wasn’t much she could do if something did occur. But I’d procrastinated until around 10pm my time because I was so scared, so it was too late to call anyone locally.

I had come up with a number of excuses of why I couldn’t make this trip. I was getting sick, The Cat would miss me too much and stop eating, The Fun Committee was hosting their first event without my expertise. But I knew none of these would be accepted by my writing partner. He had spent a lot of money on this trip, we needed to get this work done for the book. I had to go. So after I downed the Xanax, I looked out the window as the tarmac sped by and then fell out from below us, settled into my seat and said to myself, “Let’s do this.”

And then I went to Venice. Continue reading I Went to Venice. And Amsterdam.

I Have To Go To Venice. Part Two.

“Ah, Venice,” said Dr. Shay in his slow, measured tone. He moved to retrieve his stethoscope. “Beautiful city.” Dr. Shay is in his early-fifties and has been my doctor for many years. I like him because he never makes me feel rushed in my appointments and lets me spout out my various theories on the roots of health problems without becoming annoyed.

“Yes, I know,” I replied, nodding. “I’ve been there.” That was part of the problem with this whole trip. I was being forced to take vacation time for a location that I’d already been to. It pissed me off.

“You don’t sound too thrilled,” he said as he wrapped a blood pressure cuff around my arm.

“I’m not,” I said. “I couldn’t be less thrilled.”

“And why is that?” Continue reading I Have To Go To Venice. Part Two.