The Fray

So I’m sitting in traffic, awaiting the green light of forward progress, when it begins.  I feel my breath become shallow, my hands start to shake, and my vision becomes slightly blurred.  As my whole body tenses up, like a cat about to spring before it realizes it is trapped in a box, I know what is boiling up inside of me.  I am about to have a full blown panic attack.  “Oh god” I think, “Not here.  Not now.”  My destination, if I make it there, is a PTA meeting.  I am the secretary, and as such, am somewhat essential to the cause. Desperately, I attempt to focus on what my therapist’s instructions were for moments like these.  Try sitting up straight and planting your feet firmly on the floor.  Well, beneath one of my feet is the accelerator, so clearly this is not the time for such behaviour.  Breathe slowly and deeply to avoid hyperventilating.  I can breathe about as calmly as if I were attempting to outrun a mountain lion, so that’s out too.  Focus your attention on the things around you that you can see, hear, and feel.  I can see my gas gage “Oh boy, it looks like I need to fill up soon, and I don’t get paid until next week.” Hmmm, heart rate rising.  Let’s try something else.  I can see the streetlight has turned green “When did that happen?” Ah, and now I can hear the other drivers honking and swearing as I sit numbly between them and forward motion.  Heart rate rising; rising.  As I take off with a lurch I move to throw the cigarette I have smoked (down to filter by the way) out the window.  Instead what happens is that the damn thing flies back in, as though its motion is led by some sort of witchcraft, and lands squarely in my lap.  Well, now I can feel my flesh burning.  My heart is now the drummer for a heavy metal band, in the middle of a percussion solo, that is about to burst through my rib cage. 

Squealing around the corner (my car also needs new brake pads) I narrowly miss sideswiping an SUV as I am currently engrossed in smothering the smoldering embers in my lap.  I shift the car into park as I pull up front of the school.  Idling there for a couple of minutes (which feel much longer) I practice turning up the edges of the grimace I have stuck on my face into something which resembles more of a smile; I am unsuccessful.  Instead, I trudge through the snow and into the school to be met with the brilliance of 10,000 watts of neon light.  “Seriously?!” I think to myself “How do the children learn in a building that’s so bright I’d wager it can be seen from space?”  I slump over to my committee members, perched around the table like perky little birds, and prepare to spew some inadequate bull shit about how I can’t stay for the meeting, and blah, blah, blah.  Before I get the chance, one of the especially perk moms pipes up,

“Oh no!  You look absolutely awful.”  And then tilts her head to the side with a look on her face like little Jonny just scraped his elbow; concerned but ever so slightly condescending.  It stops me in my tracks.  “How could she know?” I think frantically.  And then I get a peripheral glimpse of myself in the window.  Though this morning I had my hair done at the salon, it has been left a mess from me furiously running my fingers through it.  I also have a light sheen of sweat on my face which, mixed with my slightly wild darting eyes, gives the illusion that I may blow chunks at any moment (which is not so very improbable).  Add to that the fact that I am trembling like the last fall leaf in a good wind storm, and you can imagine the “me” that stood before them. 

“Ye-yeah actually” I mumble as they all lean closer with wide unblinking eyes to hear my tale, “s-sick. M’a gonna go home.”  I manage to get out. 

“Don’t stand too close.” Says one of the more germ phobic perky birds, “With Christmas so close we can’t afford to be getting sick.”  They all look gravely at each other and bob their heads in agreement.  After it being summarily decided that I should miss the meeting and head home to try various tinctures and treatments to aid in the expediency of my return to health, I gracefully (ie: not gracefully) made my exit.  Back out into the clear cold night I trek, with all the stars of the heavens looking down on me.  Briefly I wonder if they are mischievous sprites twinkling with laughter at the pathetic frailty of humanity, or wise old spirits urging us all to keep at it, for the rewards in the end are more than worth it.  Then I let loose the fart I have been holding in, get back in my car, and drive away.