Hot Mess

Do you know that I’m a hot mess of a traveler?  Perhaps I’ve mentioned this before.  If I haven’t, then read on!  It’ll make you feel better, I promise.

Since I’m usually traveling to large-ish cities, I’ve adopted a mantra my wife started telling me when we took our first trip together nearly ten years ago: “If you’ve left it at home, we can always buy another one when we get there.”  This totally works at setting my mind at ease, and has always been accurate except that one time I realized mid-flight that I was carrying my expired credit card with me, with the non-activated new one sitting on my dresser at home.  Because I’m an idiot like that.

So next week (Wednesday actually) I’m getting on a plane early in the morning to arrive in San Francisco for the ButchVoices conference that weekend.  A good part of me is really excited, but that’s mostly the conference talking.  I mean, c’mon – 300+ butches talking about butch things?  Awesome.  I’m the conference logistics chair, so I’ve been working on the conference for a few months, and it’s been nice to kind of watch the event evolve and firm up.  I’ve picked out my button-ups and ties, and I’m only having a small “what shoes to bring” crisis.  Otherwise, I’m stoked.  TIES!!

This does not stop me from being sent into a tizzy of crazy cold sweat panics.  (And this is WITH the Lexapro.)  I even had a full-on panic attack last week, which I thought was food poisoning and a heart attack both at the same time.

What am I panicking about?  I don’t know exactly.  I’m a nervous traveler anyway.  (Don’t worry – Bob and I talk about this a lot.)  I’ve overcome most of my fears of flying to the point that I actually enjoy the excitement of being in an airport.  I also really like a road trip!  But, as my wife will confirm, as I pull out of the driveway to go somewhere, the pasty white terror on my face and jittery hands would lead you to believe I was driving myself to death row.

You see, I really love home.  I love my house and people and animals.  Even somewhere like THE BEACH, I find myself counting down the days until I can go home.  Right?  Crazy.

So this time, when faced with traveling across the country without my family, to a city where I’ve never been (Oakland) to hang out and work with people I’ve never met, is enough to induce dreams of things like Jerry Seinfeld as the cashier at the Whole Foods express line, taking a small, hot, tiny handheld pizza out of my palm, eating the cheese from the inside, and giving it back to me.  WHAT.  THE.  FUCK.

Oh, and this is all on top of my wife (hopefully) getting pregnant without me next week.

And then RR starting her new school the day after I get back.

I’m a hot mess.  Last night, I dreamed I was in a small plane that kept landing and taking off over and over in the same airport.

I’m not even worried about my wife and RR.  In fact, without my presence, I imagine I’ll come back to a potty-trained child and a pregnant wife!

So what am I doing to off-set my madness?  I’m working out.  Eating well.  Getting relatively good sleep (despite Jerry).  I scheduled a haircut for tomorrow.  I’ve made a packing list.  I even crafted RR a name chain for her lunch box.  I’d like to fit in some meditation, but that would require being able to take a deep breath.  Oh, and I’m seeing Bob on Friday.