An introverted exploration of this planet

Lethbridge is a city that was founded by coal mining- and when I told folks that I was planning on going down on a work trip they told it me it would take my breath away- literally. When I arrived in Lethbridge it did, but not for the ferocious wind that had been the crux of the quip, but instead for its horrendously unimaginative flatness. I was like stepping out into the middle of the flats of Saskachewan with all the rawness that southern Alberta promises. I had expected, albeit naively, to see hills or at the very least buildings. For being the fourth largest city in Alberta, it really gave me some prospective into the true density of our province.

But mind-blowing sparseness aside: This is supposed to be about vomit. Or at the very least fear? Well… I suppose ‘boring selfish introspection’ isn’t what we signed up for is it?

Fear is an interesting thing. It can be the greatest motivator, the most comprehensive impediment, and sometimes both at once. Fear makes those that are typically sound do very irrational things.

For instance, a typically rational woman clutching the airplane seat in front of her with one hand, and the complimentary receptacle in which children expel stomach matter… Or more specifically: Andrea silently crying as she clings mercilessly to the barf bag, and the seat in front of her as the smallest aircraft in the Air Canada fleet hits rolling turbulence while turning towards her side of the plane.

It was a sight, that I can promise. The teenage girl next to me even managed to roll her eyes at me after we straightened out, and it was all she could do to not laugh at me as she lazily flicked her iPod to the next catchy tune. I have never been a good flyer.

But the slight sense of pride that I walked out onto the tarmac with wasn’t enough to keep me from nearly losing it on a plane that had no flight attendant, and where I could see the into cockpit from my seat. I got off the plane with astonishing grace, and shakily made my way into the tiny airport building only to be greeted by a crowd of folks, all cheering and holding signs and smiles. I felt like somehow- while I had nearly stress vomited in a plane smaller than my garage, I had been victorious. While the happy entourage wasn’t truly for me- I took their welcome as a boost of strength and sidled myself into a cab and made my way to my hotel room.

Today was a small victory.

Perhaps a great victory.

A great victory dry heaved into a small paper bag.