We arrive at the airport and our flight is delayed. I’d already come down from my blunt high and I’m now anxious and irritated. I hate flying. I love traveling, exploring new places, experiencing new cultures…but the process of getting to my destination is something I’ve always dreaded – long car rides included.
We’re headed to Arizona for a hike to Havasupai Falls. Yes, I said hike. In Arizona. No, I’m not looking forward to it, not even a little. But it’s my boyfriend’s birthday tomorrow and I’ve missed out on basically every holiday and event this year because of my job. I wasn’t going to miss out on this too, no matter how bad I wanted to.
First off, I hate the dessert. With a burning passion. My parents live in Vegas, so I get enough of that shit when I visit them in Nevada. Not to mention the dreadful heat, which I do not fare well in. Not only do I burn, no matter how much sunscreen I put on, but I sweat like a whore in church. Worst of all, with heat comes rage. And I had a lot of rage inside of me.
It would be one thing if this trip was just my boyfriend and I, but it’s not. We’re going on this hike with my boyfriends brother and his wife, and a few of their friends, friends whom I’ve never met before, nor care to. Meeting new people has never been my thing. Ever since I could remember I dreaded it. If you haven’t noticed by now, I’m not exactly a people person. In fact, it would be my dream to get as far away from other human beings as possible. I’m a hermit; a recluse.
So here we are, waiting for our flight. I’m anxious (travelling in general has that effect on me), paranoid, and irritated. There was a taproom at our gate that I was dying to go to, but my boyfriend wasn’t up for it, and since I didn’t want to seem like a desperate alcoholic, I followed his lead and refrained. Plus, I was still recovering from what I think may have been pancreatitis.
My legs are shaking uncontrollably and I can literally feel my blood start to boil as the craving for a drink and a smoke exacerbates to a new level. I needed that drink. I needed another blunt. Just to function. Just to get through the discomfort. Nothing could change my mind or distract me from this dying need.
Turns out I am a desperate alcoholic.
Update: we’ve landed in Arizona and now have to take a 2 hour shuttle ride to our hotel. More than anything I want to smoke a fucking bowl right now, but of course, we don’t have a lighter and there’s no where to purchase one while we wait for the bus. We will arrive at the hotel around 2AM. I would rather be dead right now or anywhere the fuck else but here, in this stupid fucking dessert with these stupid fucking people that I don’t even know nor give a rats ass about.
I genuinely regret coming on this trip. Take me home.