illjuststayhere

My in-laws just returned from a vacation to Papua New Guinea. Before leaving they casually mentioned a band of marauders called “The Rascals” who roam PNG raping locals and visitors alike. My in-laws seemed excited to be traveling to such an exotic location. I didn’t want to be a wet blanket. “Sounds fun!” I offered.  There was no rape (they weren’t even hit on), but one of their traveling companions was attacked by a crocodile. I’m not sure they have a handle on this whole vacation thing. I need to set them down.

It makes my trip in to NYC for my first Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade seem a bit tame in comparison. Though I would rather wrestle a crocodile than make this pilgrimage. I, your hopefully second (or at least third), favorite multi-phobic get to start this adventure off with my bi-annual sinus infection. I did everything I could to avoid it.  I even used a Nettie Pot (if you don’t know what that is check out this disgusting little video http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rsZeILCedRw ) in an effort to stave off an infection. Thanks to a strange nurse I once met I have a particular fear of sinus infections.  Sitting on the exam table moaning with what felt like an anvil on my face she spouted ”Sinus infection , huh? My brother died of a sinus infection. You’d better make sure you take this antibiotic just the way it says. Or you could die.” That happened. So comforting at times like this to have that bit of info in my pocket.

To make things more interesting antibiotics tend to gnaw at my stomach like a winter squirrel paws at a nut but I’m trying to push that to the back of my mind. Jockeying for the number one position in the front of my mind is that antibiotics tend to cause diarrhea. Remember our “there are no public toilets at the parade” conversation? So just to recap:  agoraphobic hypochondriac taking a crowded train one hour down to New York City at 6am with a sinus infection and possible explosive diarrhea to stand in the cold with hundreds of thousands of other people (which as we’ve also discussed is called a “crowd” and I don’t like those). I am afraid.

I am also not a great fan of parades. I go out of my way to avoid them. When I was growing up in Kentucky my mom turned on the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade and left it on for hours. I’d stand and watch for a minute or two if I happened past the television on the way to the bathroom. My mom tried her best to muster up our enthusiasm. “Oh look! SNOOPY!” and damn it if I wouldn’t come running back into the room to see which ever dead-eyed float was haunting the crowd.  And who could tell one marching band from the next? Sad commentary on the original Nintendo generation, but I simply did not and do not have the attention span for a parade.  And boredom is not a friend of the anxious.

Being that it is the kick-off to my 52 Weeks of Fear series I will brave it for the benefit of us all. My hope/prayer/plan is to stretch the boundaries of my comfort zone. I am ready for this challenge but having you all with me gives me courage when the desire to quit creeps in. Yes, I have already thought of quitting 0 days in. That bodes well for the next 52 weeks. The anxiety started building  yesterday and should reach a fever pitch in the morning at 5:00am when the alarm goes off.

So think of me tomorrow. Send prayers and good vibes from your part of the world. Wave at me when you pass by the television on your way to the bathroom. For I will be there in the fray, on West 59th near 7th, puffy-eye to dead-eye with Snoopy trying not to poop my pants. Happy Thanksgiving.