~  You can't be real unless you feel  ~
Monday, October 10, 2005
Trouble in my head
I must say that this week started out pretty darn dull. On Thursday, i went down to the local drug store and bought myself a cold. After the first day, it wasn't working out so well, so i tried to take it back. They say they don't accept returns on colds, the flu, or any other mean bugs. I questioned perhaps they were willing to do an exchange? I asked for maybe west Nile or bird flu. Alas, they were out of everything else, so i'm just stuck with my cold. And i've been moaping around my room all weekend complaining.


I figured i'd get to bed early, and forgot to set my alarm. I wake up this morning with a start at 8:32am, realizing that there is no way i'm making my 8:30 meeting. I groggily get up and begin my morning routine. Now i'm all dressed in my business browns and office olives, and on my way to work when my boss calls. He tells me that there's been a change in plans and i'm being shipped off to San Francisco for the week.
Well, I guess that's good news. Except that i don't like traveling with colds, and probably the people i travel with like it even less. I pack up and within three hours, i'm in the air.

On the cold front, everything this morning has been fine. A few coughs, a sneeze here and there; it's not too bad. Then the captain gets on the horn and informs us that we're on approach and will land in 10 minutes.
The guy next to me is becoming increasingly fascinated with my Sidekick. No, not my pet monkey, my T-Mobile Sidekick. He says he's got a Treo and he hates it. I start telling him all of the reasons that i like my phone. Then it happens.

My head explodes in pain, an inch directly above my eye socket. The sting is excruciating!! I grab my left eye and curl up like someone just punched me. I can’t concentrate. My mind is filled with exclamation marks. I am rubbing my forehead really, really hard. Nothing is helping. A moan escapes my lips. The businessman across the isle from me is staring as if i’ve got a gangrenous limb. The guy next to me is barraging me with questions. Questions about the stupid dumb phone. Why now?! We fly lower and lower. The pain is getting unbearable. “How’s the e-mail connectivity?” He asks. I wave him off. “How do you open the screen?” comes another inquiry. What the HELL, man?! Can’t you see I’m giving birth through my eye socket!!??! I feel a small pop in my forehead, and I feel a little drip inside my nostril. Great, I think. Now my nose is running again. I wipe it with my hand, as I see this figment of a humungous ten foot long nail being rammed into my skull. Oh it hurts like nothing I’ve ever felt before.

Mr. Five Thousand Questions keeps hammering away. “Can you get on the internet?” I open my right eye and catch a glimpse of my hand. That’s when I see the thick smear of bright red blood. I feel my nostril filling up again. Shit.
I leap out of my seat. “Is the calendar easy to use?” comes the next query. I throw the phone on his lap and mutter something along the lines of ‘go nuts’ where what I really wanted to say was ‘I hope you choke on it, you ripe bastard.’
I start running down the isle toward the back of the plane, my left hand holding my eyeball in place, while my right is covering my nose, getting wetter by the millisecond. I see the lavatory. Straight ahead. The PAIN! Nothing can stop me now. The light in the food area is like a beacon of hope. I’m stumbling down the isle like a drunken sailor, with my one good eye solely focused on the ‘vacant’ sign.
Then it disappears. Up comes a stewardess. Her sure-fire voice barks out “Excuse me SIR you must sit down immediately. We are about to land!” Her had is held up in a stop sign fashion such that any child could infer its meaning. I didn’t care. I mumble ‘bathroom.’ “I’m sorry sir, you’re going to have to wait.” comes the reply. The pain is unbearable.
I have no energy to respond. I take my hand away from my nose. My palm looks like I had a messy finger painting session in my cramped coach class seat and the only color i could find was red. My nose is gushing with blood, and its pooling just above my lip. The stewardess' face freezes in horror, and she just tiptoes out of the way, not uttering a word. I enter the lavatory and lock the door.

The halogen lights flicker. I try to cup some water on my face, but its quite hard when one hand is holding the stupid water lever. Who the hell designed theses retarded sinks in the first place?! I hope they got fired. Blood starts dripping on the counter. I feel like I’m in some hack doctor’s office getting bullets removed in secret, so the cops don’t know I’m shot. I sit down on the toilet seat and just stick my nose under the sink. The pressure is decreasing. The pain is slowly dying down. Oh thank God. Today is not the day my head is going to explode. Ha! Take that you silly fortune teller!
The wheels slam down on the tarmac and I smash my head into the faucet. Owww that’s gonna leave a mark. But I just don’t care. I’m just thankful that the fifty ton vise is slowly losing its grip. After a few more minutes, its pretty much back to normal. I wash off my face, take a bunch of towels, and head back to my seat. The stewardess just stares as I walk by. I get in my chair, lean my head back, and enjoy the painless silence inside my skull.
Oh the peace...

“So as a long time user, would you recommend T-mobile's sidekick phone plan??”

Now i know why they don't allow guns on airplanes.

. . . = = COMMENTS = = . . .

B-day Girl  posted on  Tuesday, October 11, 2005

Woah..that's some story! I hope all is better.

knuckles  posted on  Monday, October 24, 2005

They were probably flourescent lights that were flickering in the bathroom :)

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