...But My City Was Gone

I spent most of this past weekend in the air - either on a plane or being swept up by the surprising number of Very Tall Friends who went to school with me.  There were also daffodils and Mexican't food and Jenga and cloudy walks and old friends and laughter.  There was even a parade!

Or something like that.

However, I almost didn't make it for all that - Friday night was my red-eye flight, and Thursday morning I woke up with a slight sore throat and the tenderest of lymph nodes throbbing hotly under my chin as if pumping phlegm in steady, rhythmic globs up to my sinuses and into the back of my throat.*  By the time I got off work Thursday night, I had a temperature and the body aches, and at 4 am the next morning I staggered out of bed, plopped down on the bathroom floor, shivered and sweat for a while, and then threw up very daintily into the toilet.

"Yep," I texted The Boy, who was just waking up, his time.  "Definitely the flu."

He convinced me to call in sick from work, so I spent the entire day unconscious, not even putting in my contacts until the late afternoon.  I dropped off lesson plans for Monday and Tuesday, drove up to LA, and found myself in the middle seat after having booked a window seat for the express purpose of plastering my cheek against the window and sleeping from takeoff to landing.**  Instead, I sat between a silent, Asian man and a woman named Jordyn with very long fingernails and a stunning ability to reinforce all kinds of racial stereotypes.  It was the most racist flight I've ever been on.

But I made it, and The Boy was waiting at the airport with flowers and breakfast, and I proceeded to spend the weekend in a haze of Dayquil, Theraflu, ibuprofen, and super-mentholated-anesthetized cough drops.  Makes old friendship seem all the more homey and warm.

On the plane ride back, I had a whole row to myself, but I accidentally left my e-reader in the seatback pocket.  So I guess that's a trade-off.  Or maybe my subconscious telling me to read actual books.

*Clearly, my knowledge of how the human body works is astounding.  But don't be intimidated.  I'm just like you.  Only smarter.
**Ah, Man Who Wanted to Sit With His Kid, you have bested me this time.  But fool me twice...and I stuff your kid in the overhead compartment and tell you to keep your damn middle seat.

Image via BU Today.  

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