Except when my anti-frizz conditioner gets confiscated by the TSA

When I travel by myself, it makes me feel like a grown up. Not the mortgage, not the business cards, not the two small people who insist on calling me “Mommy”… no, none of those things.

What makes me feel like an adult is walking through an airline terminal with my purse and a carry-on bag with a ticket in my hand.

A few years ago I felt like I was playing Russian Roulette with my life when booking a flight. What if I choose the wrong flight? The wrong time? The wrong airpline? I remember breaking out in a sweat and having a panic attack while on a website for airline tickets. A website. Weeks away from the trip. Weeks. But the thought of clicking my mouse on the wrong flight made me want to throw up. Or pass out. Or both. Which would be gross.

The irony is that I love to travel… I mean, once I get there all in one piece, that is. I love exploring a new city and seeing sights I’ve only heard about. It’s such a thrill for me!

I saw a doctor who gave me a prescription for some anti-anxiety medicine for when I fly. That schtuff made me wayyyy-groggy. I mean like sleep-for-two-days-kind-of-groggy.  That’s no fun when you go away for a quick weekend trip. So the medicine was short-lived and I had to learn to deal. Which sucks.

Turns out, that even though I don’t take the anti-anxiety medicine anymore, airplanes make me naturally sleepy. Maybe it’s the engines? It’s kinda my own personal ambien. Too bad it costs a couple of hundred dollars a dose.

This weekend I got to feel like a grown-up again. I went here:

Philadelphia. Cool. Never been there before. I was so excited to see this:

Also this, which is now a favorite:

(fountain was pink for breast cancer awareness)

The Betsy Ross House reminded me that I dressed up as her in the 1976 July 4th Parade when I was three years old. (no, there aren’t any pictures of that)


So the whole time I’m traveling I’m feeling like such the adult, having a great time with awesome friends, exploring a beautiful city… and then we visit a Haunted House at an old historic prison, and immediately I feel like a kid again…

… who was seriously in need of some strong anti-anxiety medicine.


About jensmack

Non-Profit HR Director, Scrapbooker, Reader, TV Lover, and Crafter. Also, Neurotic, Sarcastic, Anxiety-filled Mom of Three.
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One Response to Except when my anti-frizz conditioner gets confiscated by the TSA

  1. islanjen says:

    ohhhh…go you for being a grown up!! and um…i would totally need anti-anxiety meds for a haunted house…i’m a scaredy cat for reals!

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