Everything is wrong with me
Friday, February 20, 2004
fear of flying
I had never had any apprehension about flying until the last time I was on a plane. It was supposed to be an easy shuttle flight from Boston to New York, but it was very turbulent and I started freaking out - sweating, eyes darting all over the place, asking for water, hyperventilating, getting an erection (alright, not that last one - just seeing if you were paying attention). Now provided, this could be due to the fact that the night before I was at a wedding in which I had about forty vodka-cranberries. I was so drunk by the end of the night, I was allegedly yelling things in the hotel lobby like, "I've paid my dues and I can have a god damn drink if I god damn want to!" and "Do you know who the fuck I am? Do you?" and refusing to get on the elevator because I thought it would take me to hell [none of this can be independently confirmed; I know that I blacked out and the staff were very happy to see me leave the next day - my "friends" filled in the details].

But nevertheless the flight was unnerving. And faced with the prospect of flying to London next week alone (the guys I'm going with are flying out of Philly), I called my doctor to see if he could prescribe me something to calm me down. I explained the situation to him trying to sound as normal and non-substance abusive as possible, saying that I'm concerned about the transatlantic flight, and by myself, and those terror alerts, yada yada yada. Finally, he says, "OK, I'm going to prescribe you something, but I can't call it in to the pharmacy because it's a controlled substance, so you'll have to come pick up it. It's a mild tranquilizer, called Xanax." Well, hey.

So I went and picked it up, and noticed on the prescription note, for quantity, was written "10 (ten)." I deliberated for a solid two minutes standing outside the pharmacy whether or not I should change that to "10K (ten-thousand)," but I decided I wouldn't be able to pull it off. Also, I don't think my mother would appreciate a call from the authorities or my doctor telling her that her son was in custody for trying to falsify a prescription for sedatives.

But needless to say, the weekend just got a whole lot more interesting. It's going to be really tough for me to call the doctor on Monday and say, "Hi Doctor, yeah this is Jason. Listen, so I got the prescription that you gave me filled but somehow over the weekend, I lost the pills. Do you think you can write me up for some more? No? Well how about for $30? No? Well, guess what? Now I'm going to steal your car mother fucker. I hope you're happy - you have no one but yourself to blame."

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