Planes, Trains, and Amsterdam

So during my recent adventure my travel buddy and I ran into some problems when we moved to different countries. We created our own version of Planes, Trains, and Automobiles. Every time the two of us got ready to move to a new location something blew up in our faces causing us to stress about how we were going to get to our destination.
The first time this happened, we were in the Amsterdam airport, going on no sleep, and waiting for our plane that was an hour late. While trying to keep myself together I wrote this…

It’s interesting how
Sleep deprivation
Airports
and foreign countries can turn you into a wailing three old
who wants her mommy.

There have only been a few times that I’ve felt this homesick.
So sick that my very soul aches.
Once being when I spent my first night in Paris with two girls I had gone to school with but didn’t know beyond that.
It took some effort to force down the tears that wanted to come up,
but I’ve always been good at forcing down unwanted emotions.

My day has been long and uncomfortable.
Starting off at 8:20am with a shower
and a quiet game of hangman over a cup of tea.
Then an even quieter drive to the airport
as we tried to ignore the fact that we were leaving the country.
A quiet lunch. Stomachs barely willing to keep it down.
A goodbye that I didn’t want to end,
but had to let go and suck down the feelings welling up inside.

Several times I wanted to run away.
Run to the garage, jump into the car and drive home.
Who thought this was a good idea?
Me.
It’s hard to step back and admire how amazing an opportunity this is.
I can’t get my brain to stop bringing up home.
I want to sleep, but I know I shouldn’t.
Why do I think all of my advice is easy to follow?
I think of all these great adventures and ideas,
part of me knowing I’ll never do them.
Then if it happens I want to runaway,
back to complaining about how boring my life is.

What is wrong with me?
Nothing I guess… I just hate airplanes.
And I’m a scared little girl who wants her mommy.

© Autumn Micketti