We are back from Las Vegas. The main point in going was to meet up with my husbands friend Sid. Sid is a slick looker, but he is an incredibly gentle human being with a big heart. He has a wonderful sense of humor as well. I am happy to call him my friend too.
My tastes in vacations have changed a huge amount, however. Las Vegas just was not for us. It was crowded and pushy. The noise was constant no matter where we went. We got nickle and dimed to death the whole time. Although we did have a few good moments in the Lego store, in the Hard Rock Cafe, we just wound up feeling overwhelmed most of the time. I far prefer the beach or the forest.
Most people who have traveled with me have noted my increasing discomfort with airplanes over the years. This time it came to a head. The slightest bit of turbulence on the way back to Portland sent me into helpless, and humiliating, tears. So I did the only thing I could do, I wrote.
"How Is It?"
How is it that the strongest of medications no longer work? I weep public tears of humiliation when there is the slightest tremor. Yet I have flown a military jet strapped in sideways and thought nothing of the tremors that now threaten to send me into hysterics.
I feel such a weakling. A child who knows no better. An ignorant savage who does not trust the technology she espouses.
Are there really no atheists in foxholes? Am I calling for some god to save my physical being or perhaps just something to keep me from being afraid of the fear itself.. I wonder. I do not wish to die. I am afraid every moment I will do so. I have confidence in those who do this every day, but can I trust the machine itself. The construct my brain has come up with to replace this comfortable airplane. Every tremor sends me into a paroxym of fear. please...please...please... Who am I begging? What am I really afraid of? Is it that I haven't finished life yet, or that it (death) might be painful? I control nothing. I know this. Yes, that is what I am most fearful of. That I really do not control my own destiny, my own fate. I want to control that.
But the fear ends eventually, and we made it safely to the ground. The kindness of an ex sonar-tech kept my attention through the worst of the descent. My thanks. And now things are getting back to normal. Our two guinea pigs are back in their big cages for which they are enormously grateful. I have my computer, my comfortable seat, my quiet house, my Oregonian neighborhood. We've got some nice photos and great memories with Sid :D