I wrote this column yesterday, on a very overcrowded plane with one baby screaming behind me, another to my left and still another a few rows ahead of me. I can’t really blame them for crying because there has been a lot more turbulence than I prefer so far (though the flight tracker shows it’ll get better once we get over North Dakota). As of the time of this writing I’ve been up since quarter to 8 EDT and haven’t eaten since 8:30 EDT, and won’t be eating again until probably an hour after we land in Seattle at about 21:00 PDT (an egg sandwich will hit the spot, I think). I arrived at the airport just before 10:30 EDT and was bumped from two flights before I finally squeaked onto this one by the skin of my teeth, and I feel generally yucch. However, I am returning from a lovely overnight with one of my favorite gentlemen, and even with the problems of standby flying it’s pretty damned awesome to be able to go wherever I want for free; my meds work great at preventing the worst of the vertigo, and even when the pilot is too much of a goddamned cowboy for them to fully protect me, my fasting ensures that there’s nothing in my stomach to throw up except a little water. I’ll be going out to Sunset tomorrow for the dreaded Memorial Day weekend, and I probably (barring another overnight booking) won’t have to fly again for almost a month, when I go to Florida for my next several screening of The War on Whores. So despite all the problems (not the least of which was forgetting Lilac at home in the rush to get to the airport Tuesday morning) I’m still in a good headspace, albeit an exhausted one. And I know that some of my lovely readers will want to make me feel better by contributing to my fundaiser so as to make future travels easier (see, I’m not too exhausted to be shameless). However, I’ve hit all the notes I need to hit and this pilot seems determined to hit every bad patch he can, so I think I’ll sign off now and try to at least doze, though I doubt I’ll actually sleep until I’m wrapped in my own scarlet sheets in my own harlot’s bed after some comfort food, a nice hot shower and enough edibles to knock me out until after most of you have read this.
One of Those Days
May 23, 2019 by Maggie McNeill
Posted in Diary | Tagged drugs, psychology, The War on Whores | 2 Comments
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Sorry to hear about the bad flying, hope you’re sleeping well and wake feeling better!
I slept like a rock. I mean, completely insensate. Crawled into bed barely after one and the next thing I knew it was 8. Went to the loo, turned over and tried to get comfortable for what I thought was a few minutes, then turned over and the clock said 10. Then as I was trying to collect myself to get up, it suddenly went to 10:30. So I figured I’d better get up before I fell asleep again!