Definitely at That Point

Definitely the point of the trip where I'm saying: "Why the $%#!! am I doing this anyway?"  It was pointed out that the late, great Kenner would have said: "This, too, shall pass."  I hated that expression when things were going my way but found it more soothing at times like this, when I'm nervous and jumpy and edgy.  Prone to anxiety, as LWSJ would say.

I can tell that the anxiety is getting free-floating when weird stuff leaps to the forefront.  For instance, both SuperK and I get injured and sick right before a big trip bad backs, head colds, and the like, none of which ever seem to be . . . you know . . . real.  A few days ago I must have bumped the big toe on my right foot - it got sore, a little red and swollen.  Infection!  Bad infection!!  I imagined myself in the jungle in Cambodia watching a witch doctor hack off my gangrenous foot just above the ankle with a saw fashioned from the bones of a water buffalo and I was not going consider the fact that I'm going on a pretty nice tour and staying in pretty nice hotels and I have antibiotics and my fucking toe isn't infected, anyhow.  I never let facts get in the way of what I want to believe.

Another thing that was gnawing at me was the possibility of getting stuck in a middle seat on a 15 hour flight in a plane where the internal space was designed by the Marquis de Sade.  I'm an antsy guy, I'm a tall guy, I hate the lack of control and claustrophobia of being trapped in a small space.  Because I'm cheap I got a great fare where one of the drawbacks was not being able to choose my seat earlier than 48 hours before the flight.  Guess what?  Middle seat.  I was moderately freaked for a while before transitioning into the "It is what it is" phase of my mental preparation.

I can hack it.  I can hack it.