Travel Worries

I leave tomorrow at five a.m. for the States. As expected, I didn't sleep much last night and I probably won't sleep tonight. I am not good at this travel business. I never have been good at it. I force myself to do it. Sometimes I get messages from people who worry about leaving the States and moving to Mexico. They have so many worries and I totally understand! I too suffer from the disease of worrying too much. I try to anticipate what could go wrong. It is amazing how many things do go wrong that I would never have thought about. The world never ceases to surprise me.

Once I missed a flight in Boston because of the time change and I didn't know about it. I read in a self help book this week about trying to control life. It said, at least fifty percent of what happens to us in life is out of our control, so why not just relax? You can't control it anyway, no matter how hard you try and how much you worry. Wish I could do that. I would love to be able to pick up a suitcase and go without all these jitters. Am I taking too many clothes? Will they be warm enough, or cool enough? What if I need something that I left behind? What if the taxi driver doesn't show up? What if he drives too fast in the dark on the way to the airport and hits a cow on the road? (Don't laugh. That happens often here.) What if the taxi breaks down along the side of the road and I miss the plane? What if I get seated on the plane next to a sex addict? (Ha! I should be so lucky.) What if I have to sit next to a screaming little kid? ( I already have a headache just thinking about that.) What if this Valium that my friend gave me is too strong and I over sleep and miss my flight? What if it doesn't work at all and I sit up all night worrying? (I should have asked for a whole bottle. Then all my worries would be over. Just kidding.) And these worries are not even mentioning the BIG WORRIES. They are almost too scary to even consider. Maybe that is why I distract myself with all the little worries. Number one big worry, What if the plane crashes? ( I have no faith in those little flotation seats.) What if there is a terrorist on the plane? What if I catch an incurable disease? How about the Swine flu? ( Even my son worried about that one on my last trip. I was surprised and kind of flattered at that.) What if? What if? What if????

My son is the opposite of me. Maybe because he has witnessed me going through so many changes in planning for trips. He waits until the last minute to pack. He seems to be at ease in airports. He expects the taxi driver to be on time. Last time when I went to Portland to visit him I had to take a taxi to his house. The taxi driver swore to me that my son's street address didn't exist. He drove all over Portland while I was trying to tell him from the back seat that it did exist because I had been there many times. I didn't know the area well enough to give him directions. At one point, with his anger and my anger to a boiling point I almost got of the taxi but the neighborhood looked a bit too rough for me with my three suitcases and no running shoes on that day. He finally found it and charged me an arm and a leg for his mistake...So things do happen, unexpected things......

Oh yes, I must mention the time when I went to my son's house for Christmas and was planning on going on to Mexico. A few days before my departure I was just starting my worrying process and I casually thought of my passport. It was midnight. Everyone in the house was sleeping, except me. I was worrying. Where was it? I hadn't seen it since I had arrived in Portland. I frantically rummaged all through my suitcases. I turned them upside down, all the clothes spilling out on the floor. I shook out each article of clothing. It wasn't there! I had lost it or forgotten it in my house in Red Bluff. After several frustrating calls to my friend down there and no passport ever being found I had to cancel my flight, stay another month, go to Seattle to get another passport and pay out a couple of hundred dollars extra. Instead of sitting on the beach for that extra month I was staring out the window at the snow in Portland. This is not even mentioning the extra stress I caused to my son and his wife by hanging out with them an extra month.

Then I can't forget about my trip back to the States when the man in the L.A. customs said I was traveling on a stolen or missing passport. I insisted that it was my new one. He had no sympathy. He was rude and insulting to me, treating me like a criminal. He sent me to a little room in the back where they ignored me long enough until I almost missed my next flight. I sat there wondering how that old passport managed to jump into my suitcase when I wasn't looking. I had gone through it with a fine toothed comb many times before I left from the States. And then if it had jumped into my suitcase, what happened to the new one I was issued? Finally the woman looked at the back of my passport where it states very clearly, THIS IS A REPLACEMENT PASSPORT....So I got out of jail and had to run to grab my suitcases and catch my flight..... No apologies from that rude man. No apologies from anyone in that office.

No fun, this traveling business...I hate it.....I think I will get an FM3 and stay in Mexico for a year next time.....I guess I am saying all this to let you know that if I can travel and live in a foreign country, anyone can do it.... Because I am the worst traveler in the world. Just ask my son......