Flying

So, yet again, listening to my mother comes back to bite me in the ass.

The 3:30 flight I’ve been talking about for 2 months since my mother told me I had a 3:30 – it was a 12:15. There was a freak-out extravaganza when, at 1:15 my father called to ask me where I was….”What do you mean ‘Where am I’? I’m on Ciscero….” Whatever was I thinking telling him that.

Cut to a few miles down the road and driver instructions of “Mike, find us somewhere that we can pull over and not get shot” Yup, my boarding pass confirmed it – 12:15. So, by now, I’m paper-bagging it in the back seat wondering why they don’t issue barf bags with ticketless travel. All I’ve eaten since 11 o’clock last night is a handful of barbeque potato chips and a grande Caramel Macchiato.

But, apparently panic attacks suit me because the wonderful girl at the ticket counter not only waived the upgrade charge but also gave me a boarding pass instead of making me fly standby so, I suppose all’s well that doesn’t end in life-threatening injuries.

I’ll feel stupid for listening to my mother just as soon as the nausea fades