Harmless, Yet Traumatizing

by - 8:41:00 PM

I'm going to Disneyland this weekend. With the entire soon-to-be-in-law's family. When I say entire, I mean entire. Aunts, uncles, cousins, siblings, parents, and it's all for Grandma's 70th birthday.

I warned my nice, perfect fiancé: the thought of an airport makes me want to either have an anxiety attack or throw up. Or possibly both. At the same time. We're still flying there. But, we're driving back.

I believe this feeling comes from the 6 days I spent living in one during the excursion across the world in December. I can't distinguish between airports in general and the string of them we lived in for many days (located in not only many locations, but multiple countries) in my mind. When someone says "airport" I see Asians and think about sleeping on benches while mi madre hands out motion sickness pills like it's 1999.

The separation problem is so real that today I asked my mom, "Do I need my passport to get on the airplane?" To Disneyland. Yes. It's a problem.

Flight attendants: If I start talking really slow, clear (and probably loud) English-it's because I'm picturing you with a bun, waking me up every half hour to feed me poisoned, Asian, airline food, and speaking to me in Vietnamese. Don't mind me.

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