So I know what you’re thinking. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be running around Dublin having all sorts of wacky historical fun?” Well, I’m not, guys. I’ve been becoming very well acquainted with someone I’ve come to call Mr. Bucket. We’ve become inseparable really. I now understand the lolrus so much better. We have a connection really.
So here’s the story. I go to sleep all excited and nervous for my big trip and wake up around 4 in the morning violently ill for the first time since probably before high school. I won’t gross you out with the details or anything, but believe me, it was gross. Silly me, thinking it was just nerves, presses forward, trying to just get to the airport. I think if I can just get trough it that I’ll feel better, I’ll be distracted by my friends and my anxiety will be all gone. So, my parents drop me off at the bus, I make it almost all the way to the airport without being sick and just through security before the realization finally sinks in that I’m not going to make it. Yes, my dear friends, I am missing a trip to the beautiful Republic of Ireland because I’m hope sick with the flu. First time I’ve been this sick in years.
For those of you who might be worried about me, I’m fine now. Still a little weak, probably from eating nothing but a cracker and a half for 24-hours and what not. Today I got to eat toast too, and popsicles too, that was exciting. I have this habit, though, of eating half and then forgetting about the other half until it’s really melted and impossible to eat. But, the important part is I’ve been keeping them down and that is a huge relief after yesterday. After I got home I did nothing but sleep and sip at some rather gross tasting tea for several hours. Like a dumb-ass I let myself get dehydrated trying to get to the plane, which nearly led to me passing out. I got to ride in a wheel chair, though, and sing seven verses of “Over the Misty Mountains” by J.R.R. Tolken while waiting for my dad. Yeah, that’s all I have memorized, there’s like twenty more.
So, Monday morning I’ll call my boss and see if they still need people to work at the library over Spring Break. It’ll give me something to do and some extra cash too, at least. I’ll get to go to my sister’s art show/ literary reading. I haven’t missed one yet and it looks like I don’t have to start now. If I’m feeling well enough tomorrow I might even go to my cousins’ birthday party. I haven’t gotten to see them in a while and I do miss fawning over them.
I really hope I sound better in text than I do in reality. I’m not okay, guys. Not emotionally anyway. I’ve wanted to go to Ireland my whole life and when the opportunity finally arises I’m stuck at home throwing up for an entire day. They said I could see if they would let me rebook, that they would wait for me if I wanted to fly over a few days later, but I can’t. I can’t fly over there, not over the ocean and not by myself. I guess one great adventure was just too much to ask for.