I’m Having A Buddy Holly Moment
As the moment approaches when I’m supposed to get on a plane with my daughter, I’m starting to have some anxiety. We have rescheduled this trip once, & I refuse to do it again. I was already apprehensive about Alex’s first plane ride anyway; traveling with a kid in a CAR is difficult enough. Now let’s throw in security checks, a mammoth stroller, & my expensive camera equipment. At least I have my husband to get me to the gate, right? Nope, uh uh, he bailed on me to head to Dallas for a ball game. Rather than bitch about it, I sucked it up and took it in stride. I’m a big girl. I’m capable of getting things done by myself.
Then I get a phone call yesterday from daycare. Come get your sick kid. F’n great. Now I’m traveling with a sick kid. Granted, she’s acting like a perfectly normal 17 month old; she still screams when I take my cell phone away from her. So I called my best friend (after prying the cell phone away from the kid) to warn her. Gracious as always, she blew it off as no big deal; we just can’t let the kids swap bodily fluids. I tried to sigh in relief, but being the high-stung individual that I’ve become, it sounded more like a pathetic moan. But rather than bitch about it, I pushed forward. In an uncharacteristically grown-up move, I packed my bags last night, so I was completely prepared for today’s trip.
Then I get up this morning to go work out, and I see a reporter on TV standing at Intercontinental. Not a good sign. Standing in front of a Continental plane. Even less of a good sign. As he’s ticking off the list of items that you can’t have in your carry-on bag today, I realize with increasing dread that when I get home, I have to re-pack. I can only hope they won’t unwrap the gifts for my friend’s two-year old, but I know that in all likelihood, they will. I’m okay with that; I’d rather them be safe than sorry, and Scotch tape is cheap. But the timing is incredible. I HATE to fly. A bumpy flight into Philidelphia a few years back left me terrified of turbulence (chance of rain 30%), but to make matters worse, now I get to worry that Muhommed sitting next to me might mix up a Molitov Cocktail with his shampoo, toothpaste, & Bacardi 151. And quite honestly, it just pisses me off. If you’re mad at my govenment, take it out on my government. Leave me, and more importantly, my baby daughter, out of your fight. I don’t care who you worship; I just want to take a F’N STRESS-FREE VACATION!
At this point, I have to tell you, the plane doesn’t have to blow up to scare me to death. It is entirely likely that I will have an aneurysm long before I make it to the airport.