Yesterday, I was in Turin. In Italy. It sounds harmless but you must know that apart from my tendency to food compulsion and a very very light hypochondria, I suffer from another sickness: plane phobia. So, let me tell you the least business trip turns into a pathetic saga… Wanna read about it?
TUESDAY
-14h: My boss arrives in my office, looking satisfied with himself. I know this smile, I’m scared.
– 14h01: “You’re leaving tomorrow to Turin until Thursday. Isn’t it great?”
– 14h02: True, it’s awesome. I’m a real adventurer; I love the image it gives of me: “Cinema on Wednesday? No, sorry, I’ll be in Turin, on Wednesday.” Moreover I love Italia. Italians too. Anyway, I’m like that, I’m unable to stand still. Office life, no thanks.
– 14h03: I ask my boss from which train station I’ll be departing, for planning purposes.
– 14h04: I’ll leave from Roissy.
– 14h05: I didn’t know some TGV [1] leave from Roissy to Italia.
– 14h06: It’s not a TGV but a Boeing, my boss giggles.
– 14h07: I’m going to take a plane.
– 14h08: My children are too young to lose their mother. Some much fuss simply to go to Italia. When everyone knows Italians are thieve. Just check the World Cup.
– 14h10: I chance the dentist appointment I can’t postpone. Plus I’m falling behind with several files. My boss doesn’t look satisfied with himself anymore. Neither with me. I pretend I was kidding.
– 14h15: I call the man to inform him I’m leaving to Turin tomorrow. Flying.
– 14h16: The man finds it great.
– 14h17: I hang up on him, I can’t believe he finds it great I’ll be risking my life.
– 20h00: I remain motionless on my couch, looking in distress at my flat, as if I had been sentenced to death.
– 20h10: I apologise to the man for inflicting such a life upon him. I promise to resign, if I get out of it alive. When you’re a mother you can’t afford having such a dangerous job.
– 20h11: The man thinks archivist is not a dangerous job.
– 20h12: Poor thing. He does all this to hide his pain. It’s a real shock. If he had to leave to the other side of the world, I’m not sure I would have the same dignity.
– 20h13: The man asks me to write the check to pay the rent.
– 20h14: I find it petty to think of such things when it might be our last night together. Right but I must think of our children. Their mother might be gone by tomorrow, the least I can do for them is to ensure they have a roof over their head.
– 20h15: The man assures it has nothing to do with Turin, we are two weeks behind and we’ll pay a fine otherwise.
– 20h16: It’s crazy how everything seems derisory when you’re about to die. I write the check anyway. I feel a great wisdom seizing me. I’m completely detached from material eventualities.
– 20h20: The man reminds me it’s my turn to empty the dishwasher.
– 20h22: He is right. Life goes on. He is so brave, I’m impressed. I hope you don’t empty the dishwasher anymore when you’re dead though.
– 2h00: I wake up sweating. It takes me ten minute to realize I’m not locked up in a baggage hold.
– 2h15: I breathe from my belly.
– 2h30: I over did it, I feel sick.
– 4h00: I’m watching my kids sleep. They are so beautiful. They don’t suspect anything. I have no right to do this to them. It’s disgusting.
– 6h00: I pray.
– 7h00: Alarm clock rings. I don’t want to go. I want my mummy
– 7h30: The man holds me tight and assures everything’s going to be okay.
– 8h00: I say goodbye to my family and home. I’m flying tonight at 19h00 and will never see them again.
– 8h01: I realise it will be DARK at 19h00.
– 8h12: But it changes everything. Taking a plane that will take off BLINDLY is out of question. Dare-devil, alright, suicidal, no.
To be continued…
