5/10/10 Panic Attack for Breakfast

*Walks in slowly and flops on couch*
Thank God you are here Mr. Blog.
I woke up with chest pains and short of breath
and sweating profusely. Of course the sweat was a hot flash
but the rest was awful. Felt like someone flattened
me with a hunk of 1" thick plywood.
So I did what Brenda always reminds me to do when
I have a panic attack.
I told myself to breathe.
So after I accepted I was alive and breathing
I started praying for a while.
I witnessed a miracle when my sister was scheduled
to die and didn't so I do believe in miracles.
I woke up seeing myself on a huge ship and it was sinking.
Everyone I knew was in round yellow lifeboats yelling at me,
"Jump! Jump!"
And I knew I SHOULD jump but that I wouldn't.
That if the USS NIXPIX went under
I would be clinging to the bow and go down with it.
I just don't give up Mr. Blog.
When I got turned down dozens of times over five years
trying to get hired as a flight attendant, I could overhear
nasty coworkers at the post office talking about how
stupid I was. You know what Mr. Blog?
I just didn't care what people said.
It did hurt my feelings and make me feel like a loser
but I got hired. It was something like my 31st try
and there I was in San Fransisco when the interviewers
said everyone could leave but the following people had
problems with their applications and needed to stay.
It was their code-talk for "You've been hired but
we don't want to crush the spirits of the other applicants."
And nobody knew how they felt not getting picked better
than I did. In 1987 only one applicant out of one hundred
got picked. It was quite the long shot to get that job.
But you know what Mr. Blog?
I did get hired.
I crammed so much fun into those eight years of flying it was criminal!
They used to call me, "Connie Continental."
I was obsessed with passing out pillows and blankets and magazines
and cooking the food to perfection
and picking up the trash swiftly so people could
get up and use the restroom.
My Buddy Bidder, Theresa used to tease me when we'd pick up
the trash together. I'd get all excited to clean the tray tables off
so people could relax and enjoy their flights and act promptly.
She'd always say, "Where's the fire Gretch?"
I'd laugh and laugh. She was such a card!
And I'd say right back,
"No one wants to look at garbage. Get moving over there!"
Then we would both always laugh and laugh and we couldn't stop.
I don't think I stopped laughing for eight years.
So back to today. Gee Mr. Blog, remember
laughing non-stop for eight years has me smiling again!
Look! *Turns to show him giant grin*
Hahahaha.
Ciao!