The man seated next to me on my way to a layover in Toronto was bringing his mother back home to Canada. After her short stint at trying to live in the Twin Cities she was in need of a nursing home and he was moving her back to Toronto. I immediately reflected on how I had to bring my mother from Nevada back to Minnesota a little over a year and a half ago by myself. My mind was overwhelmed with that day and how difficult it was since she couldn’t walk very well at all, was confused and scared. Memories of her flooded my mind and my heart began to ache and my eyes flooded with tears because my trip was pretty much inspired by her in various ways. At that moment I looked down at my hand and focused on the new blue bird tattoo I got in honor of her and I immediately felt empowered and my nerves calmed. PK was holding my hand just like I did for her the entire plane ride from NV to MN.
That calmness came in handy when I almost lost my shit when I took the wrong bus to the wrong rail station after landing in Ireland. I didn’t have Euro’s yet, couldn’t use a credit card, then couldn't find the correct rail station after getting off my second bus, in the dark. On no sleep and 2 coffees, all I wanted to do was go home to comfort zone, or at least to a hotel and cry in private. Too bad sister, buck the fuck up. I finally made it to the correct rail station after asking many, many people for help and didn’t pass out or die from doing something wrong or looking stupid. Dear god, it’s only been a day of traveling and I had to talk myself down from a few freak outs already..
Great things so far:
Aer Lingus has bad ass music choices to listen to, Foo Fighters got me pumped up when I landed.
Older woman next to me listened to AC/DC, Pink Floyd, Aerosmith, Tenacious D and Santana.
Airport gave me a free cup of coffee.
I didn’t have an anxiety attack.
Irish people really are as kind as they say.