Eat, Pray & Love Myself - Part 2

My plane lands and I have a text waiting for me from the driver who is picking me up from the airport.

I feel the need to explain why I didn’t just get a cab; it’s not because I am fancy and booking drivers is what I always do. I’m not fancy. I’m a preschool teacher with anxiety issues, thus I am an expert planner and the unknown scares the crap out of me.

I read the text -

“Go to the bottom level of Area B and look for the Express Pick-Up signs, that’s where I will be.”

“Great.  See you soon, just getting off the plane now,” I reply.

I hit the restroom and take the elevator to the lower level.  My heart is racing. I feel the temperature and humidity change in the airport, I really did it! I made it to Florida!

Just as I am congratulating myself, the high of leaving starts burning off like a drop of water on a hot skillet and doubt taps me on the shoulder.

I am looking at every single sign and for the life of me I can’t find the Express Pick-Up.  I circle the entire area about five times and have no idea where to go.  I feel my anxiety prick up.

 My worried brain takes over.

“Why did you come alone?  Now you’ve got to figure this out all by yourself.  Now you are lost and your ride is going to leave you here.  I’ve been trying to tell you to stay home and you didn’t listen. You aren’t safe without your people. If you have a panic attack here right now you won’t have any help. It’s going to be just like that time at the zoo when you sat on the toilet for an hour and a half with two kids in a double stroller. You don’t know anything. You always think you can do things but you can’t.”

I start to sweat; I am listening to this irrational train of thought until I remember why I left home in the first place. 

I stop in my tracks and close my eyes in the middle of the bustling exit area… and take a slow, deep breath.

“You dumb ass, this is exactly what you wanted… ADVENTURE.  Now stop being a wimp and just ask for help.  Wait! No. You are not a dumb ass you are a BAD ASS so start acting like one,” and with one more deep breath I find my strength.

I see a man wearing a uniform-looking shirt and ask where Express Pick-Up is. 

“It’s hidden around that corner over there.  You were smart to ask, it’s hard to find.”

I head in the right direction repeating his words in my head.  “You were smart to ask.  You were smart to ask.”

I am smart.  I can do this.

I go through the automatic doors and to the right I see a man in a blue jacket.  He shouts brightly, “Michelle!  Is that you?”

I sigh in relief.  “Yes!  It’s me!”

He rushes to take my bag and opens the car door for me.  We get in and he says, “I hope you found me easily, this exit is kind of tucked away.  This is where the celebrities usually get picked up.”

Damn right.