Rock. Paper. Scissors. (part 3)


On the big day JD, The Pixarian and I carted off our various mothers into my mother's home so they could either have a good time or set the entire house on fire.  They looked a bit shifty eyed for a couple of old ladies so we left The Dalmatian, The Mute Deer Goat and The West Highland Terrorist to keep them an eye on them.

Us 3 concert goers had a quick meal. Well they ate, I squirreled away food in my hair from my hiding spot under the table while making loud smacking sounds with my mouth to appear as though I was chewing. You know, casual. I was also blinking out questions to JD:

"Traffic cams okay?"

"Do we need to take the Métro?"

"Does this panic attack make me look fat?"

"Why are we doing this again?"

"Do we have cash for the parking?"

"Did you check the traffic cams a 7th time?"

"I have to poop."

That last one wasn't a question but it is good to state that out loud then blog about it. No time to ponder this, they are now in my car waiting for me. I study the door, hand on the handle, once I breach that door, I have left my house. Tears spring up realizing I did this already, there is no point worrying anymore, the time has come. I created this fun event, I made it happen for myself with the help of those two people waiting for me with their silly expectant grins. So off we go, I can do this.

Or not. Full stop on Champlain bridge where traffic cams were completely empty a mere 20 minutes ago, suckers! We left 2 hours early. We are now dead in the water. Not literally, although I so wanted to fling myself into the St-Laurent, I am a very good swimmer but the act of jumping off a bridge is frowned upon. We cannot even get to the Métro if we tried, we are stuck before that exit.  I can hear The Pixarian and JD talk to each other and maybe me, but I am slowly leaving my body. They call it depersonalization for those with degrees in psychology like myself.  Yes, I have a degree in psychology - I was absent the day they taught about situational anxiety?

I am now sweating heavily, I can no longer feel my limbs, my heart is pounding and the doom is setting in. I bow my head pleading with myself to just not "go there" when I notice an odd shape in my hand. Oh. It's my cell phone. I check in with the SSSTL. They live on my phone. The Super Secret Society Tea Ladies. I had 347 unread messages. All forms of "You can do this" "Nice rack!" "I have one ugly foot." "You are having a great year." "You are so strong!" "No seriously my left foot is uglier than the right one, see?" The hilarity got to me and I sat there giggling. I was here! Back in my body, listening to the conversation in the car, I was myself again! Still stuck, but not dying apparently.

We are moving! We are in Montréal! We have 30 minutes to spare! Maybe not. Parking was a problem. Oh we found a parking immediately, no problem. We paid 7 million dollars in cash to the man but there was a snafu. He sold too many tickets for the actual parking places left. Snafu? Or crime? Hmm. No parking attendant in sight. Well there was one guy hiding in the parking hut, he was busy listening to his tunes and one idiot running around not knowing what to do. Perfect examples of humanity right there. Several cars in front and in back of us waiting in the lanes between cars with nowhere to park.

People of the world? Know this: When I am done, I am done. I cut myself out of my anxious persona, outgrowing it and I stepped out of the car...


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