Chapter 2

A week goes by without incident. No tumultuous affairs, no whirlwind romances. It’s finally time to head out to New York. Needless to say, my parents aren’t exactly thrilled with my decision to still go. But the old Olivia would have jumped ship. I need to show my sister that I’ve changed. I’m much more responsible and dearly love my family. I can not cancel this trip if I ever want her to talk to me again.
I go over to my parents’ house to try to make nice. They live in a boating community that is on the verge of being its own world. The people are quite different from anyone you’ve ever met. Not high class, but not ghetto. Just its own area. There are Indian burial grounds here, Ku Klux Klan remnants, and houses that are still set up to receive booze during prohibition. If you’ve never made it to the islands that are off the shores of Ohio, you are honestly missing out on some amazing views and very interesting history.

“Tom?” I sweetly say to my stepfather. And what follows this question I’m seriously not making up. This is really how we’ve talked to each other since I was old enough to comprehend all the different ways you could use the work “Fuck”. You’ll find that it has become a large part of my vocabulary, much to the dismay of my religious relatives. Is it still a bad word when you use it the same way that you’d use the word “car”?
“I know you’re not working today and I was just wondering if you could take me to the airport this afternoon.”
“I can’t believe that you’re still fucking going! I don’t even want to talk to you. Do you have a death wish? Do you have any idea how fucking stupid you are? Do you know what happens to people that are dumb enough to go to a shit-hole like New York City by the fucking shit-hole dwellers that live there? They rape women in broad daylight in Central Park. Now with all these terror attacks! You’re going to come back here with some sort of disease and give it to all of us. I refuse to drive you to your certain death!”

God. What a drama queen. I guess I can take that Oscar-worthy monologue as a firm “NO!”. OK, I did not plan this well and I know it. I’m supposed to be getting on a plane in mere hours and I don’t have a ride. I call Eric. I know he’ll help me.

“Hello?”
“Hey, what’s up?” I say, trying to sound nonchalant.
“Not much. What’s going on? I thought you were leaving today.”
“I am. My flight leaves in a few hours and I thought that my step dad was going to take me but he freaked out on me. Something about rapes and diseases. He’d rather not.”
“Ok…”
“ I was wondering,” I demurely say, “If maybe you could take me to the airport.”
“Well, I was supposed to work today. No one else can take you?”
“No, I didn’t plan well. I’m fully aware of this. So you’ll do it?” I know he won‘t leave me high and dry. He’s just so great like that. I could ask him for a kidney and I know he’d give me one.
“Of course I’ll do it. I can be a little late to work. What time should I come to get you?”
“3 o’ clock. You’re the best. I’ll see you then!” See? How could I not be in love with some one that caring and that reliable?

Two hours until I have to be on the plane. I guess I should get packing. I impressively jam three weeks worth of clothes into a carry-on bag, and Eric pulls up. My cats know I’m leaving and they’re ticked. I tell them I love them, that grandma will come see them every day, and I leave. As I step out the door, I get an overwhelming feeling that when I come back I will never be the same. It feels like the world is spinning at an incredible rate of speed and I can’t quite catch my balance. That was weird. I try to shake the feeling and I get into Eric’s car.

“Ready?” Eric asks.
“As I’ll ever be. I’m really nervous. I’ve got to be one of the only crazy people actually flying into the city that the major attacks happened in. Am I insane?”
“Yes, but for many reasons other than this. You’ll be fine. I know you will be. You’re going to have a fabulous time with your sister.”
“Good God. That’s a whole other thing that’s freaking me out. I haven’t seen her in over ten years! What if she doesn’t like me? What if I don’t like her? What if we’re completely different and don’t get along? What if I get abducted and raped in Central Park?”
“What?! Calm down. Do not overanalyze this now. You have an entire plane ride to think about it. So save me the drama and do it on your own time,” he says and smiles.

We’re pulling up to Toledo airport and I think that I’m going to have a heart attack. I’m not used to doing things like this on my own. Usually I’m able to talk my way out of going, or at the very least have my mother there with me. I can only handle things like this if my mother is around. I know it’s probably not healthy to rely on her so much, but she’s always been the only constant thing in my entire life. My dad was never around, my siblings moved out when I was very young, and the only man I could trust as a child, my grandfather, died when I was six. My mom is all I’ve ever had. This is absolutely terrifying. My step father has been absolutely wonderful, but he was a little late. But this is all why I have to do it. I’m 21 years old. It’s time to do something on my own. My mom will be here to clean up the mess of me when I get back.

I ask Eric to come in and wait with me until my plane leaves and, of course, he does. We joke for a while and he tries to keep my mind off the weight of this trip that I’m about to go on. Then they call for me to board. Panic slices through me all over again. I start to say goodbye to Eric and to my horror “I love you” comes out. There’s no taking it back. There’s no blaming it on beer. It’s hanging out there in the air like the stench of onions cooking. I think I’m going to die. The look on his face says it all. It kind of looks like I just told him that I use to be a man. So the only thing left to do is just turn around and look for my salvation hiding behind an enormous man on the escalator. Did I seriously just say that out loud? What’s wrong with me? Now on top of worrying about this trip, I have to be terrified of coming back home to my freaked out best friend. I say a little prayer that he doesn’t tell another single soul what I just said. Especially no one in our inner circle. This just needs to be swept under the rug. I think I secretly enjoy making my life a little harder than it needs to be.


I’m standing in line waiting for the lady to take my boarding pass and I see my plane out the window. The wave of unsettlement washes over me again. Something is going to happen on this trip. I’m not trying to sound like a psychic and say that I’m able to foresee the plane coming down before it happens. That is not it at all. It all has to do with me. Something is going to happen with me and it’s terrifying. The feeling isn’t going away as I’m getting into my seat. I’m sure I look like I’m going to throw up because the guy seated next to me is looking at me with utter horror on his face. I try to smile to ease his mind, but the smile felt more like a sneer and I think that I scared him further.

Thank God I brought a book. Hopefully I’ll be able to dive into it and stay there for a while and ignore the flight attendant’s atrocious voice and the godless 4 year old monster kicking my seat behind me. The plane starts moving and my heart does a violent flip. This isn’t how I usually react to planes. I’ve been on them a million times. Something is definitely happening.

Flying toward NYC, straight at the Statue of Liberty, has got to be the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. It was so moving. She looked beautiful. I had an overwhelming sense of pride come over me while I was watching her. This really is an amazing city. The warm feelings are fleeting, though. I was soon panic stricken again. It’s time to go into Newark International Airport.
The security’s intense, to say the very least. I can see lines for miles. This is going to take a while. I toss my bag on the conveyor belt, smile at the gentleman manning his station, and I walk through the metal detector. Fantastic! No beeps. I should be good to go!

“Miss, you’re going to have to step behind these ropes and remove your shoes.” says a surly little security woman.

Wow, this is odd. I’ve never had this happen to me before. So I walk over to their little pen and remove my tennis shoes. They proceed to use their little metal detector wand all over my body.

“Okay, now I need you to remove your sweater.” says the security woman who is now under sexual-orientation-suspicion.

Alright! Now what if I didn’t have a tank top on under this thing? I’d be standing in the middle of this airport half nude! Now I know that I look pretty ethnic, so either this lady has a thing for me, or we’re doing a little profiling here! After the metal detector probe, I finally get the all-clear sign. I put my shirt and shoes back on, and I’m on my happy little way. Or so I thought. I don’t walk more than 20 feet, and this Federal Agent looking guy stops me and frisks me! After I get away from him, I’m feeling a little cheap. I’m not entirely sure, but through all of that touching and commotion, I think I may have just scored.