"hey Rhonda, don't offer seat 4A any alcohol"

i flew to Alaska last night. almost a 6 hour flight in 1st class, which im so grateful to have had that luxury, but... it was really hard. not going to lie.

as i stated prior, i haven't flown sober in over a decade. 107 days under my belt- air travel challenge accepted. it didn't break me, but it sure fucking tried.

flying sober? let me sing you the song of my people.

i also had the weekend from hell as i alluded to in my 1st entry, horribly downplayed, and it started to creep in to my week like a shit splatter. i need to leave, this is perfect timing. im finally running away from something properly.

stress is a trigger, anxiety is a trigger. anger is a trigger. airports are a trigger. flying is a trigger. free alcohol is the king and queen of all triggers, talk about my brain exploding.

1st flight as a recently sober person, around FREE ALCOHOL.
it's like you trained your entire life to play Carnegie Hall, and the opportunity is finally presented the day after your arms were amputated. i missed my chance. i missed my chance. is this a cruel joke? why is this happening to me? i want to start over. my previous life flashing before my eyes. it's so unfair.

if you don't understand any part of that paragraph,just get out now.

i get checked in, make it through security with my knitting needles and tiny scissors still in my possession, and i note how thus far no one has believed i could possibly be a 1st class passenger. this ticket must be fake. let the woman with the gucci glasses past while we scrutinize this fake. she has tattoos and metal in her face, this just doesn't happen. it must be fake. i make note to file a formal complaint, because i do things like that now.
anger is a trigger.

i find my gate immediately so i can judge how much time i have to distract myself before i board. 1.5 hours. there was a minibar right in front of gate 22.
anxiety is a trigger. airports are a trigger.

i walked ran to the restaurant i always go to pre-flight for a glass of wine, but this time for tea. that in retrospect could have been dumb, but it felt safe. i needed some kind of routine.
the bartender has always remembered me, by name, even though he sees more faces than most. i could never figure out if that was a good or bad thing. perhaps it's because i tip him well, or maybe because it was never just one glass of wine and my lips turned loose.
 he always remembered me,
even when i didn't sit at the bar, he'd come over to say hi. bring me another glass as a courtesy so i didn't have to ask. sometimes a shot of sambuca if my face looked tense. he knew who i was. what i was.
 this time he didn't say hi.
that's ok, i don't recognize myself sometimes either, joe.
i hope he is well, i didn't dare go near that bar to ask.
i grew nervous, because it wasn't as comfortable as i thought it would be. i ditched the tea, and felt like everyone was watching me walk away. "is she alright? something must be wrong."
i went to a chain coffee spot, because those are safe. they just want you to add a flavor or some whipped cream, buy little candies, 2 for $8. they don't sell you booze. none of that's there.

deep breath.

begin to board the plane, and tap the outside 3 times for good luck like you always do.
i asked a stewardess to tell whoever would be serving 1st class that i was a recovering alcoholic, and to please not offer me any alcohol. don't tell me it's free. don't tell me it's an option. help me forget this is even a thing.
she patted me on the back, and said "good for you! how many days?" "107", i said, almost to the entire cabin, almost sternly. this number is an absolute, everyone. don't mess with me. i see my request being passed on, hushed. my valuable information.
 "hey rhonda, don't offer seat 4A any alcohol." i watched her nod, and look up. we make eye contact and she smiles at me knowingly. thank you, rhonda.

1st class is nice, it's roomy, and they give you little bottles of water and hot towels. your drinks come in real glasses and they check in with you constantly.
 the man next to me reminds me of my dad, and we talk about usb chargers, and the pros and cons of certain phones. he's an android guy, im an ios lover. sharks vs jets.

just because i can't drink, doesn't mean everyone else around me has to stop too. i've had the privledge of controlling my surroundings, but at 30,000 feet you are stuck with the reality that's not how life works.

stress is a trigger. anxiety is a trigger. flying is a trigger. free alcohol is king and queen. my arms are amputated.

my dad facsimile likes gin and tonics. he has 9 of those. he also likes red wine. he has 3 of those. im going to keep track for you, dad. im going to watch you like a hawk. my senses are sharp and i can hear dad's ice clink ever so delicately. i can hear rhonda cracking open a new bottle in the galley. im too aware of my surroundings. i brought knitting to distract myself, but i can't count rows right now, only bottles opening, sips and the number of bathroom breaks taken. people's voices growing louder. cause and effect.

you can monitor the flight time and track your location on the screen in front of you. somewhere around the 5th hour, straddling the Alaska/Canada border, a switch flips, and i go into survival mode.
 i stop focusing on the sweat dripping down the real drinking glasses they give you, and i stop watching the levels of each alcohol bottle tended by rhonda. the smells are gross and the sights are sad. 6 hour friends at a party they were forced to have.

i will get to my destination, and i won't feel like shit. i'll see my husband, kiss him passionately, and mean every ounce of it. remember it with every fiber of my being. we'll go out to eat, and i'll taste the food, and laugh at our conversations whole-heartedly. i'll be able to wake up early and explore a place i've never seen, without the sunlight making me want to vomit, or have the wind throw me off balance.
i get off the plane and i find my way to get my bags.
my 1st sober flight in 14 years.

stress is a trigger. airports are a trigger. anxiety is a trigger. free alcohol my king and my queen.

i get into the car and we drive away from it all.