The trip to Vegas started off well enough – we didn’t sleep in, kids ate their porridge, the babysitter showed up on time. We started gambling early – rolled the dice and crossed our fingers that they’d let us on the plane even though we were late for check-in. Luck was on our side, and we sailed through to our gates with time for breakfast too!
But then, things took a turn for the worse. Our assigned seats were the aisle and the center seats, so even though my boarding pass was for the aisle, I offered to sit in the middle. I’m smaller, I don’t need so much leg room. All was well until the person who had the window seat showed up. She was pleasant enough, took out a book and kept to herself. While we waited for takeoff, she started picking her nails. Clicking them, like she was trying to get dirt out from under her nails. Incessantly.
If you know anything about me, you will know that I have misophonia. It is the “condition” where noise bothers me, especially mouth and nail noises. And can you believe it – I married a man who picks his teeth and picks his nails! AUGH!! But over the years, he has learned to live with me, as I him. He understands when I have to leave the room because I’m about to lose my shit. And I understand that it’s a habit that he can’t break, so I try SO HARD to not let it bother me. Just last night as we were watching Castle, I snapped at him at least 3 times – “stop it”, “cut it out”, “sit on your hands!!!” I can usually ignore my misophonia, or deal with it by removing myself from the situation. But in cases where I am trapped (for example, when my own fingers tapping on the keyboard is making me squirrelly), I have to take action.
So here I am, trapped between two noise makers in a small space. We looked around and saw that the row across the aisle and down one only had one person in it, and she was seated at the window. Hubby, being the gentleman that he is, hopped over and strapped himself in! I moved into the aisle seat, and tilted my body away from the clicker – if I can’t see the movement, I won’t focus on it. I steadfastly concentrated on my Candy Crush game. Alas, I ran out of lives…
So I went to the bathroom. The gay flight attendant was a real beotch about it when I asked if I could use the washroom (cue bitchy tone) – “I can’t tell you NOT to go, I can only tell you that the seatbelt sign is still on.” We had quite a turbulent flight and the pilot had said the seatbelt sign would be on but if you had to use the washroom, just tell the flight attendant. Huh. So gay flight attendant #2 comes up and says “it’s like asking the police officer if you can do 120 on the highway.” Uhhh… bite me! I went pee. Uneventfully.
My husband is a real chatterbox and luckily the lady in the window seat was feeling sociable. They chattered for a good long while, and man, did she have a story to tell! Get this: she was on her way to Vegas to say goodbye to a friend. This friend and her boyfriend had gone to Vegas to see Andrea Bocelli, a lovely romantic getaway for the couple with an 18 month old daugher. They drank. They had a fight. She bolted into traffic and got hit by a bus!!!!!!!! The lady on the plane had gotten a text as she boarded the plane that her friend was being resuscitated and probably wouldn’t make it. Sure enough, when we landed she got a text saying she had died. Sadly, the only thing going through MY head was “I hope they had travel insurance!!”
For the entire trip, my husband kept reminding me to watch for traffic every time we crossed a street, and to take overhead walkways whenever possible. Sheesh! DUH!!! It was a sobering start to our mini holiday, and definitely made us thankful that we were not drinkers and arguers. Drinkers, yes. Arguers, for sure. But not both at the same time. WHEW!
This is the first time that we had gone Stateside with no travel insurance, which was risky and I won’t do it again. As we all know, ANYTHING can happen! And that’s why I was on my way to Vegas in the first place! 😀