People ask me all the time how I'm doing, and I think I'd feel pretty guilty if I told them the truth. I imagine that their faces might melt off and their eyeballs would roll down their faces, like those poor people at the end of Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark. So I try to come up with something halfway between the truth and a complete lie, for their sake.
But I was thinking today that these last few months have been like being on a plane that never lands. On a really long flight, and you're getting pretty tired and uncomfortable, and your back and legs ache because you've been sitting one way for so long, and the person in front of you has their seat back all the way, but you can't put yours back because the person behind you told you they're claustrophobic, and you have two large, hot people sitting on either side of you, and they keep accidentally hit you in the abdomen over and over, and you have to pee a lot but it's such a hassel to get up and the lavatory is never big enough.
And there's a flight attendant who's trying to be really nice and help you out, but since the flight has been going on for months now they're really just pretty sick of you, but you can't help it if you're cranky because you're the one stuck in the dadgum seat all the time, and there's all this turbulence that makes you really nauseated, and most people told you that the turbulence would only last for the first third of the flight, but if you're like me, it's been going the WHOLE TIME and it's only getting worse during the last leg of the journey now.
And SURE, the plane is going to Hawaii, but you're starting to forget why you booked the tickets in the first place and you're not sure you're even prepared at all, you can't remember if you packed your swim suit, and you're pretty sure you've heard other people on the flight talking about the landing being pretty rough, to the point where you're wondering if they're going to try to land the plane on the side of a volcano or if they just eject you out into open air and you have to hope and pray that you hit the island. And even when you get there you're not sure if you're ever even going to get OFF of the island. I mean, sure, living in paradise sounds pretty good, but I bet I'd want a break from all that sand or what if the natives get hostile?
So you're not sure what to expect, you can't remember why you got yourself in that seat, but there you are stuck on that plane with your body aching and unable to get up, hurtling 500mph towards a rough landing and hostile natives. And some palm trees. Keep trying to focus on the palm trees.
Did I mention there are effing snakes on this effing plane? Just kidding. There aren't. But I wouldn't be surprised. Honestly, this whole metaphor doesn't quite capture it.
Are your faces still intact?