Island Experience. Day 2.

June 15, 2011

Day One of Travel to Hawaii: I already wrote about. However, I only wrote about the first leg of the trip.

2nd leg of the trip: Setting: San Francisco Airport.

Before I flew to SFO, I received a text message that Denmark Boy read my blog and tried to throw it back in Heather’s face. He claimed, “If she doesn’t want people to read it, then she should have it on private.” I will say this again. I blog a lot. Look what I am doing right this second… I am blogging. The fact that Denmark Boy is so fucking insecure that he has to stalk Heather and read her friends blog to see what she is doing is downright fucking dumb. And if Heather was sick or hurt, I sure as hell wouldn’t be blogging it, I would be texting people. Duh. Get with the fucking 2000’s buddy. I have absolutely had it and deleted it. I write for me. I put my feelings and thoughts into cyber space because I know someone else out there is going through the same thing as me and its always nice to have other people read that other people are going through the same thing I was. It’s a comfort type thing. I feel better about it. The fact that I have fucking guys reading my blog to find out information about other people or to throw my words back in my face is kinda fucking pissing me off.  I would rather just … well I deleted the blog. Take that fuckers. Next time you find my blog, you won’t have shit on me. Because? Everyone is getting a code name so you fucking people who stalk and read, won’t know what the fuck I am talking about.

I land in SFO about 20 minutes before my next flight is to leave. I started crying twice because I was so frustrated. I’m going on vacation to fucking Hawaii. Fuck you guys for stressing me out. I get an email from Betty Page. Oh shit. It’s on now. I have been hearing about this said Betty Page girl emailing people and harassing people about Robbie and stuff. Since I was so pissed off about the blog, she caught the brunt of my anger. I told her is she wasn’t such a whore and used protection she wouldn’t be in this position. I kinda wonder who the girl is since she is hiding behind a fake Facebook profile. I told her if she was any kind on “woman” she would stand up and be honest about her identity and not hide behind shit. Right after that email, I received a Facebook friend request from Robbie’s old roommate. I’m sure it’s not the same girl; it was just funny how it happened. It could be tho. I don’t really know…

Enough about that.

Back to my flight again..

I get on the plane, everything is hunky dory and I get into my seat and the couple next to me are “live off the earth” type of people. Its cool. I fall asleep like I always do and then wake up and watch the movie, Rango, and then as the sun starts to go down, I chat to them for a minute about if the sunlight bothers them or the light (I was reading and running out of light). Through out the flight, I think he was getting her off. I mean, she was wearing jeans and stuff but his hand was moving an awful lot under the blanket and she kept shifting in her seat… I didn’t want to be watching them or anything, but I kinda couldn’t help it because I was right next to them – in close quarters. They were cool though and I chose to overlook the hanky panky that was going on around me. It was probably their first vacation  together and couldn’t wait to get “busy”. They were from Bend, Oregon, which I found interesting since Bend is the destination spot for a lot of people I know. After talking to them, they told me if I need to get up not to worry, just let them know. I then had to explain my fear about airplanes.

I should back up a bit and explain my whole fear of airplanes. First time I was on a plane I was a baby. I don’t remember it. Second time I was on a plane, I was 10, going to Sacramento for a 5th grade field trip. The cool girl of the class, Marci, got airsick and barfed all over in a bag and wasn’t so much the cool girl anymore. I mean, she still was, but in my eyes? If you act better than everyone else and then barf on an airplane, you just lost your badge. Anyway, I never flew after that. In 2006, I decided to go visit my best friend in Texas and flew out of LAX. I was so scared. I took a bunch of draminne and anti-anxiety pills and had a mini panic attack on the plane. I started crying and almost threw up when the plane took off. Not like Marci, when we were already in the air, but more like sheer terror. I land disorientated but still alive. Two days later, I flew to Florida to visit a boyfriend. I started flying after that. Back and forth to Florida and Georgia, and Texas in between that. I still hated flying though and still was scared to death and had to wear wristbands and take Valium or Xanax when I had to board the plane. I got smart and stopped taking it before I got on but started taking it when boarding began. Otherwise I was so out of it that I had trouble lifting my arms, speaking coherently or making any sound judgments.  It might have been because I was mixing pills with booze that made me that way. Two cocktails and then a pill or two and I was golden. Plane crash? Let it happen, I will sleep through it anyways! I always thanked my lucky stars that I wasn’t flying over water. Until I met Haggis, my ex boyfriend, now good friend. He lived in Scotland and I live in California… and that required an awful lot of flying back and forth to make the relationship work. Now it was 3-5 cocktails and a healthy amount of pills. Vicodin, Norco, Valium, Tylenol PM, Ambien, Soma, Xanax… anything I could think of that would mix well with booze and that would keep my anxiety level at a minimum. My flights ran about 8 or 9 hours non-stop and my god. Wasn’t happening. The last time I flew to England I took my usual, Xanax, but a whole bar like an idiot and blacked out the whole flight. I ate food, (found crackers in my purse), took pictures out the window (found the pictures when I looked at my camera), drank half a bottle of vodka (found the evidence later) and broke up with Haggis (next morning he asked if it was true.) After that, I flew a few more times, but now I fly sober. No wristbands or Dramamine or pills of any kind. Just a bottle of water and Cheeze-Its.

So when the nice couple asked me if I wanted to get up and walk around, I had to explain my fear of walking around on the plane. New fear: As soon as I get up, we will hit massive horrible turbulence and I will smack my head and the emergency door will open and suck me out. Rational? No, not at all. I know this, but I am conquering my fears one fear at a time. I finally stopped crying when we take off and land. That is a goal in itself.

Back to my flight, for the third time.

I am peering out the window and there are these red glowly things in the middle of the ocean. I automatically think it’s a volcano about to spew everywhere. Until I think about it and realize that might not be the answer. I figure it’s a city, under the clouds but as we approached it, it wasn’t a city (and there were not any clouds). I got super excited, thinking it was the coolest thing ever when I realized… the way the plane was and my view… the red I was so excited about was simply … the sunset reflecting off the water. I still secretly think it is something more awesome than that.

The captain says we are landing soon, and I look out the window and see water. We are descending down quickly and all I see is water. Right before pure panic sets in I see the shore and then the runway. Talk about freaking quick. We get off the plane and into the smallest freaking airport ever. Smaller than Jacksonville in Florida! I start walking out and then I realized that I should go to the baggage claim and low and behold there was Brittany! I haven’t seen her in a few years and she had long hair, glasses and was taller than me! It was great to see her and we drove a short drive to the house. Aunt Kathy has seriously, one of the cutest houses ever. She always decorates super cute anyway but it is so cute. I will have to take pictures and post them.

I have a lovely dinner and a few glasses of wine and then fall asleep. I am now 3 hours behind California, and am still on “mainland” time. Especially right now. So tired. It is 12:36 CA time. Pass out.

I wake up every few minutes it feels like. There are geckos that live in the house. It’s pretty cool actually. I would love to have lizards live in the house and run free. They make this noise, that sounds like a squawking bird its so loud. Who would have thought such a little creature would be so loud? I wake up from:

  1. Squawking Gecko
  2. Cars racing past the house on the street like they are in the Indy 500
  3. Rain. It started out light enough and then it DUMPED. Like, massive rainstorm in a matter of minutes.
  4. Cars driving past.
  5. Rain
  6. Where am I?
  7. The Gecko again.
  8. I’m cold.
  9. I’m hot.
  10. I’m sweating
  11. Where the fuck am I?
  12. Whistling. (Seriously, like the 7 dwarfs.)
  13. People talking.
  14. Oh! I know where I am! Time to get up anyway.

So. Day 2

Aunt Kathy and I go run some errands, do some shopping and hit the beach. We are at the beach, lather up in oil, get in the water, get out of the water and sit back on the beach… do do do okay, its fucking hot out here! We pack up and go back to the house, eat a delish sammy; I fall asleep and wake up when the guys get home. We drive up to the road and goof around in a park, eat dinner, up load pictures, and now here I am. It sounds boring, especially after my detail of the plane journey. It wasn’t boring at all. The pictures will speak 1000 words that I don’t know how to write. Plus I am tired as fuck and cannot type anymore.


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