Dazed & Confused, Wings & Wine

The drive to the airport was simpler than I thought, before I knew it I was at the large engulfing airport, I feel overwhelmed.

I get myself inside, process a bag tag to drop my luggage off and get into a line; apparently there are numerous lines and I end up in one to go to London.

Into another line I go, drop the bag, and then hit the next line; the only seat left was at the back of the plane; my vertigo is in full force; it is challenging.

I talk to another representative and he tells me another line to go to for assistance on my seat. My MS is starting to act up, too much pressure already; I start sweating and am feeling as if I am about to be sick.

I now hit the next line for security and I am in full panic mode, the amount of people around me being herded like cattle was stifling my breath. The tears started some and I grabbed my earphones to try and calm the attack down. I just wanted to run away but how do I get home.

I end up being chosen for security, they always say it’s random, unfortunately if I didn’t get chosen every time I flew I would believe them but I don’t. Into another line, another process and it is taking everything I have not to drop down on the ground and cry.

The older gentleman could tell and was asking if everything’s is good, I tell him it’s too many people for me, I need to get through. The airport is too large, he agrees.

Another line, and nothing is happening, or moving. I feel like the Hulk trying to contain himself from turning green and bursting free. If I ripped my jacket off and start into the Hulk, I am sure some lovely men in blue would take me away.

Finally, it is my turn and I have to take the buckle shoes off; my hands not working and I get through. By the time I have done all the line ups with my fellow cows, I can feel my legs slowing down and the body tightening more, the earphones are in, the classical overtaking the stories, the chatter, the constant blabbing I hear all around me. I need them to all disappear except the pilots and crew to take me home.

I eventually end up on my cane to get around, but was assisted by a couple airport ladies on my way. With a cancelled flight, a broken iPhone (it fell while away, thank god I bought insurance) and the Sherlock Holmes case of my missing chicken on my salad, I feel just numb and throbby.

I am looking forward to my own bed, and I guess it will be tomorrow. I have enjoyed a plate of wings, sharing is never an options if wings are around; I would tackle you to the ground to take them from you and the sumo size glass of wine from Argentina is a keeper.

I figured if I ordered a bottle by myself the bartender may get suspicious. This should help assist in my pain and let me sleep for the few hours I get.

My eyes are closing quickly as I couldn’t sleep in the long flight, my body and mind racing.  I feel defeated, today has won this round, tomorrow I will be better.

“Wine brings to light the hidden secrets of the soul.” Horace (Mine says more wings please.)

Love always the flying high, wing eating Woman in Process

P.S did I mention I also got lost at the airport?

 

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