I have to get on a plane that leaves at six thirty.
My sister called me last night to touch base before I arrive. She sounds really excited. She told me all about everything she has planned for us. I think I'm just going to be offering my services as a volunteer for her the whole time I am out there. Which I think will be nice. Hanging out and being productive. I used to do a lot of that at Mom's Center (when she was a social worker).
She babbled on and on about the weather. My favorite bit was:
"It rained here for three days in October. I think that was winter. I think it's over now. But once it was finished, the air was so clear. I saw mountains I didn't know existed. Maybe they put them up for a movie or something, because they're gone again now."
My second favorite part was that she seemed to be telling herself (more so than me) that she would not forget to pick me up from the airport. Apparently there's some serious concern that she's going to abandon her big sister at LAX. I think it stems from all the times Mom forgot to pick us up. Sad, but true. It began in kindergarten (she overslept once and didn't come and get me. You would think she handed me to kidnappers that way I haven't let that go), and it continued through high school.
I'll admit right now that I once forgot to pick up NotBoyAnymore at the airport. He went on vacation with his family. His parents picked him up on their way to the airport. He woke me up and said something. Then he left. I got up later and went back to camp. I still cannot recall what it was he said.
But it was a brief listing of when he'd need to be picked up. Apparently he left the information on the counter. And I completely did not realize I was supposed to pick him up.
Shelly told us both four times "And I won't forget to come and get you. You'd better make sure my cell number is in your carry-on, just in case."
I'm sure it will all be fine. I'm so scared of airplanes though. It's not the gravity thing, or the speed thing, or the terrorists thing, or the claustrophobia thing or any one thing really. Really, it's all of it. I've been keeping myself pretty intoxicated here lately so I can deal with the idea of flying.
Yet, this morning, still slightly buzzing, I had a panic attack. On WriterGuy's bathroom floor. Yep, I know what makes for a fun date. Actually, he wasn't home. Okay, he got up and went to work and left me sleep for a few hours and then came home and woke me up and drove me home. Isn't that so nice??
Y'all, I was trashed last night when he picked me up. And I continued drinking over at his place. And he was so cool about it. I feel kinda bad. But not really bad, because a drunk girl is better than a girl who can't stop shaking and crying about getting on a silly airplane.
Okay, I have to go and pack now. And figure out how I'm getting to the airport... I should be updating from Shelly's place. She does have a laptop and all.
