The flight from New York started tipping me over the edge. There was turbulence so bad I came close to a panic attack. Or maybe I had one and just dealt with it. Whatever. I started feeling nauseous, broke out into a cold sweat and starting breathing fast. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on breathing slowly and calming down but every time my eyes closed all I could think about was the plane falling from the sky and that freaked me out even more. It also didn't help that the girl sitting next to me was eating left over Chinese chicken salad - which smelled like a fart, not helping with the nausea. This lasted at least fifteen minutes until the plane came out of it.
Last night I dreamt I was on the plane good ol' Sully Sullenberger landed in the Hudson. My dream felt so real as I waited to die. We never made that safe landing in my dream, just the descent, over and over and over again. Fuck, what a fucking nightmare. I think this was just the thing to take me past the edge and it's safe to say I need lots of drugs to keep me calm during future flights. Oh, and fuck you, Sully Sullenberger for not landing the fucking plane in my fucking nightmare, asshole.
