So they're here again... my pre-flight jitters.
WTF?
It's not like I fear the plane going down or anything (no, I only get that very real fear in London/England. That place is windy/scary as fuck... in the air, of course. Once there, I'm completely smitten with the place), I just hate everything I have to deal with.
Some passengers make me want to rip my hair out (like the ones that keep alarming at checkpoint, but don't take anything off when they're about to cross again... so they alarm again),
a lot of airport employees make me want to cry (there are SO many rude people at airports... I hate how condescending they are, as if I'm supposed to be born KNOWING how their lame ass airport works. I don't give people shit for not knowing/understanding calculus... something that seems pretty damn logical to me... so I shouldn't get shit for thinking an airport is confusing as fuck),
the altitude makes my ears and tummy hurt (yeah, so what? I'm weak),
I have this dumb fear that my luggage will get lost (they lost my sister's when she got back from Spain in May, so I KNOW this can happen)...
eghh... so much crap.
I'm also pretty freaked over what I'm going to do once I'm in San Francisco. I'm supposed to stay with Pacemaker, one of the girls involved in August's Colossal Mexico Argument... and I'm SO scared I'm going to be getting less-than friendly treatment from her family (Pacemaker's dad is the uncle of the chick that got most offended in the argument)... like... terrified... to the point where I have my aunt's number speed-dialed on my phone in case I need to leave that house and head over to auntie's house who lives half an hour away.
...
We'll see what goes down.
My money's on "upset... she's gonna cry a little."
No comments:
Post a Comment