Gloom Despair and Agony On Me - A new travel anxiety for me.

I refuse to be worry.  At least I try to refuse to worry.  Worrying is just wasted time.  We are not promised tomorrow.  So if I spent my last day worrying over something I can't control anyway, I would have lost my last day.   This has become my life's motto.   Yet it's not always easy to be carefree.  Life has it's own agenda and we never know when it's going to throw us into a tail spin.

When I was in first grade my teacher asked us, every single morning, "Did you have your BM today."  I was five years old.  I did not know what a BM was.  My parents never taught me that euphemism.   I still have no idea why she was so concerned about our bowel movements, but every day she asked that question.  And every day I would raise my hand to let her know that I had my BM that day.  I was afraid not to raise my hand.  I was afraid I would get into trouble.  And I was afraid to ask my parents.  Because obviously I was doing something wrong.  Whatever this BM was I was not having one and it sure sounded like I should be.   

Growing up I worried about every thing.  I worried until I would make myself ill.  I worried  when my parents argued.  I worried about my father's drinking problem.  I worried about church and the last days.   I worried about catching that baseball in the outfield at gym class.   None of these things were under my control.  There was nothing I could do about any of them.  Well I guess the BM thing might have been under my control if I had known what it was.  But for the most part I worried about things that I could not change, correct, or avoid.   And it wasted so much of my time.  

It took me until the fateful day on 9/11/2001 to really look at fear and anxiety.  I was in Washington DC working on Capitol Hill when all of the attacks started.  We had no idea what was going on and I was scared.  As many Americans were scared that day.  But what could I do about it?  Nothing.  I had to go back to work the next.  It was awful.  No one wanted to go back into Washington DC that day.  The passengers on the train from Baltimore to Washington were silent.  No one talked that day.  And every one just stared ahead with no expression.   But you can't live with that kind of fear.  I had to step away from it.  And then I realized that I had let fear and  anxiety rule many other areas of my life for too long.  I looked back and realized that much of what I worried about in the past no longer affected me.  So why did I waste my time letting it control me.

Mark and I went on a vacation this month.  We had a wonderful time in Milan and several other Italian cities.  And it was basically carefree.  We looked at cathedrals, ancient ruins, and restaurant menus.  We ate too much and we drank a little too much.  And we really didn't worry about it.  Then on our fourth day in Italy as I got ready to pay for a meal I realized my credit card was not in my wallet.   I was prepared for this.  I had some other credit cards with me just in case something like this would happen.  So I did not worry about it.  When we returned to our hotel room I called the credit card company and had them put a hold on the card so no one else could use it.  Problem solved.   We spent our next three days having fun, eat, drinking, looking at more churches and never gave it another thought.  

We went to the airport for our flight home on Tuesday morning.   Now I am not afraid of flying.  But I do admit I get a bit anxious in the airport.  Until I am through security, bags checked, body scanned, and my shoes back on my feet I am always a little anxious.    After that I usually chill and prepare for the flight home.  About half way across the Atlantic Mark says to me didn't you use that lost credit card to get into the parking lot back in Washington when we left?   And boom!  It happened.  Fear hit me.  I had used a ticketless booth to get into the parking lot.  I put my credit card into the machine and would have to put the same credit card in the machine to exit and pay on our return.  But I didn't have the card!   And I got quiet.  I could not enjoy the in flight movie.  I didn't want my in flight snack.  And I could not go to sleep.   I had to worry and fret about that stupid credit card and getting my car out the parking lot.  I did think it through and decided I could call the parking service when we landed in Newark, New Jersey and find a solution to the situation.

We had a four hour lay over in Newark.  That left me lots of time to make the phone call, have some lunch, and maybe a glass of wine to chill my nerves.   I googled the web page for the parking lot.  I found a phone number and made my phone call.  All common sense told me I was not the first person to have this problem.  So I knew there had to be a solution.  So I just had to  stop worrying about it.  I spoke with a lady at the parking lot.  She had a very thick accent so it was difficult to understand what she was saying.  So I spoke very slowly, and if you know me I never speak slowly.  I told her my problem and asked what I should do.  She said very kindly.  "It's no problem.  Go to cashier and it will be OK".  Now my brain is saying "WHAT?"  No problem.  Yes it's a problem.  I have no proof of when I arrived.  How will they know how much to charge me.  Will I be charged some ridiculous fee for a maximum rate for lost cards?  Would I have to ram through the gate like Burt Reynold in Smokey and the Bandit to get my car out?  I wanted to scream all of these things.  Instead I just said calmly, "Are you sure I will not have a problem.  I have no proof of when I parked in the lot"  And once more she said nicely "It's no problem.  Just go to cashier."

I tried to calm down.  I tried to eat some lunch.  But I was too worried.  So I waited for two hours and decided to call again.  I would get someone else and maybe they could give me a good answer.  I made the call and a very familiar voice answered the phone.  Apparently she recognized my voice also because she said " Sir, it's like I told you before.  It's no problem.  Just go to the cashier."

We arrived in Dulles airport.  We claimed out luggage.  We found the shuttle and we were off to the parking lot.  And I was as upset about this as I was about not knowing what a BM was when I was five years old.  How in the hell am I going to get out of this parking lot without paying some ridiculous fee and get my car out.  Mark was a little concerned also.  We saw no way we were not going to have a problem.  We found our car.  We drove up to the cashier.  I said to the cashier I have a slight problem and explained it to her.  She asked what day did your arrive.   I said last Tuesday.  She pressed a couple of buttons and said $90.  The rate was $10 a day.  We were gone a total of nine days.  So she was correct.  I had to ask though.  How did this work?  How did you know how much to charge me.  Do you just trust me when I said I arrived on Tuesday.  She smiled and no.  We have you on camera when you arrive.  So I just looked at Tuesdays photos and there you were entering the lot.  

So I worried for nothing once more.  I made myself somewhat ill.  I did not enjoy the flight home.  And I didn't eat my lunch.  I had let fear and anxiety waste my time once more.  Now if only that lady on the phone had said "No problem. We have a photo of you arriving." it would have been so much  easier.  So I blame her.  She wasted my day.  It certainly wasn't my fault because I never let fear control me any more.  Right?   Now excuse me.  I think I need to have my BM for the day.  My first grade teacher would be thrilled.

Gloom , despair, and agony on me

Deep, dark, depression, excessive misery

If it weren't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all

Gloom, despair and agony on me.