"There are only two emotions in a plane: boredom and terror."
I'm flying across the country tomorrow, and it's no secret that I'm a terrible flyer. Up until now I've simply put up with the anxiety of air travel, but there comes a time in every well-to-do Caucasian male's life where he decides he ought to be medicated during life's inconveniences, and my time has come. I went to my doctor and lamented my issue, anticipating hesitation on his part, but instead he simply asked me how strong I wanted my medication to be. I told him I wanted the strongest.
I told him I wanted horse tranquilizers if they had them, but I had to settle for high-potency benzodiazepines. Fine, I'll take it. He recommended I try out a dosage when I picked up my prescription to make sure it didn't affect me negatively, and sent me on my way.
I expected the pharmacy to give me a few doses, but upon arriving at the pharmacy I was surprised to discover the good doctor had prescribed me thirty doses. Thirty. Did he think I lived on an airplane? But hey, who was I to complain? I had a little orange bottle full of courage, and I felt unstoppable. Never would I fear flying again. I was fearless. I was a GOD.
That night I followed the doctor's instructions and took a practice dosage. The results were unexpected.
The meds kicked in, rather suddenly, about a half hour after I took them. I was beginning to think they weren't going to work so I was surprised when I started to feel loopy. I was sitting at my desk reading Creepypasta, because I'm a lazy blogger and that's what lazy bloggers do at night: they waste hours reading crap on the internet.
Having exhausted my supply of creepy internet trash and deciding I wasn't sufficiently freaked out, I turned to Netflix. I noticed Eraserhead was streaming, so I wrapped myself in my blanket and instantly fast forwarded to the Lady in the Radiator scene, which proved horrifying in my drowsy and confused state.
I made it about 2 minutes before I had to turn the television off.
I decided to sit down at my desk and draw for a bit, but apparently I was too far gone. I'd apparently forgotten how to draw altogether.
Instead I relocated to the couch, stuck band-aids all over my face, and took approximately five thousand pictures of myself in Photo Booth.
I don't know how much time I wasted doing this, because if I haven't made it clear yet, I was tripping balls.
1:30 (?) AM
Feeling unstable on my feed, I decided to cool it for a bit. I dimmed the lights, laid down on my yoga mat, and set my iPod to shuffle. At this point I was just curious to see when the drug would wear off so I would know what to expect on my flight. For an indeterminate amount of time I rested peacefully on my back as my speakers pumped tunes into the room, from Little Dragon to Kate Bush, Björk to Dinosaur Jr. When my iPod suddenly and abruptly switched to Lil Mama's "Lip Gloss," I experienced a minor revelation.
At that point I promptly passed out and woke up hours later, sunlight streaming into the room.
As of writing this, my flight is mere hours away, and I have no idea what to expect. I sincerely hope I have an aisle to myself, because there's no telling how I might react to another passenger.
Wish me luck, internets. This may be the end for me.