Dear Wonderful Woman Who Sat Next To Me On The Plane Ride Back From Portland,
You truly were an angel sent by God to help me.
You helped me create an on-the-fly icepack using barf bags.
You rubbed my fingers when my hands swelled up.
You rubbed my back comfortingly when I felt like I couldn’t take it anymore.
You made sure I always had whatever I needed to take care of myself.
You offered me your aisle seat!
May God return those blessings to you times a million.
Your Grateful Seat Mate,
Dear Awesome Flight Attendant Who Ordered Me A Wheelchair,
Thank you for not questioning my request at all, but just taking care of it for me.
Thank you for sharing your own battle with fibromyalgia to let me know that I’m not alone, and that you really got what I was going through.
Thank you for your words of hope.
Your So Grateful Not To Have To Walk Anymore Passenger,
Dear Airport Wheelchair Guy,
Thank you so much for picking me up in the jet-way and driving me all the way to baggage claim. Because if you hadn’t, I would have collapsed on the floor in a giant puddle of tears. And I’d probably still be there to this day, trapped forever in Jetway Limbo.
And I don’t know who they would have had to call then. The emergency dogsled team? The emergency St. Bernard? A guy with a giant spatula?
Thank you for making sure that there was someone coming to meet me at baggage claim.
Thank you for pulling all my bags off the conveyor belt for me. Because I had absolutely ZERO internal or external resources left for anything more strenuous than lying on the floor and weeping.
Thank you for watching concernedly as I basically oozed out of the chair onto the floor, and then built a little luggage fort out of all of my bags, and then hid inside it.
And if you thought that was really odd, thank you for keeping that opinion to yourself. Because sometimes you just need a fort.
Thank you for helping me get home a little bit more quickly.
So Glad Not To Still Be At The Airport,
Dear The Kennedy School–
You are by far the coolest place I’ve ever stayed. I never felt like I was in a hotel, because there was always something neat to check out.
And all your employees always seemed genuinely happy to see me, and genuinely happy to help me.
And your desserts rocked.
The only thing I would mention is that you really shouldn’t bill the room you gave me as “one of the quiet rooms”. Because it isn’t.
For one thing, the room is basically in the back parking lot, so every time a car drives by it sounds like it’s about to crash right into the bedroom.
Also, there is there is that exit door right there that bangs constantly, like someone sending urgent Morse Coded messages all night long.
It bangs three times it’s used or the wind blows through it, like this: DUHduhduh, DUHduh duh, DUHduhduh. This I know thanks to my highly developed, OCD-induced, repetitive counting skills.
But otherwise, you were great.
Thankful For Your Hospitality,
Dear My Husband,
Seriously, there are no words.
You are the best human being I’ve ever known.
All my love,
WTF man?! What is the deal with you and your constantly denying me ice? Did you suddenly become part of Europe while I wasn’t looking?
I am a person with tremendous ice needs. One look at my always beet red flushed complexion should have told you that. But I’ve never had to BEG for ice Every. Single. Time. I ordered a drink. Ice has always just been an automatic part of my beverage experiences. (Oh, and while we’re on the subject of beverages: No, RC COLA IS NOT THE SAME THING AS COKE!)
I have to say that I spent the whole week feeling like there was some kind of conspiracy to keep me constantly dying of thirst. Because when I finally became resigned to my ice-less fate and tried to buy a water bottle so I could at least have some liquid every so often, the only ones I could find were those ludicrously small, “eco-friendly’ glass ones that cost approximately 8 billion dollars, which-I DON’T THINK SO.
So that + 4 1/2 days of rain and OMG, WHERE IS THE SUN?!?! + 2 separate trash cans in my room (1 for waste, and 1 for recycling), but no TV=not exactly endearing me to you or your eco-conscious cause.
I admit it. I LOVE it here in Georgia. Not just because we have sun, and mountains that can actually be seen by the human eye, but because our idea of public transportation is the fact that we each have our own car, which we use to transport ourselves around in public. And even though I may be burning through precious fossil fuels every time I turn my key in the ignition, I DON’T CARE. Because no matter where I publicly transport myself, I can always get as much ice as I want!
Unfortunately Not A Fan,
I love you so much. Please marry me.
Let’s have a reception created entirely from ice.
May Never Leave Home Again,