Dear Jen #4,

Dear Jen,

For future reference when you decide hop on a plane to Chicago do NOT go with a sinus infection. If by some undetermined emergency of biblical proportions you must go with a sinus infection don’t forget to take sinus medication BEFORE taking off.

Your sinuses have issued a special request to remind you of the pain you inflicted on them when you decided to take this flight with the ‘oh, I’ll be fine’ smugness.

Close your eyes. Imagine you are sitting on a plane, all buckled in,  phone in the off position, carry on carefully stowed, brand new book ready to be read (Rebel Angels, by Libba Bray… you know if you were interested). The plane slowly backs out of the terminal, toddles to the runway and jerks forward and begins to hurtle itself down the runway and lift off. The first 100 feet are going great, you still feel fine. A subtle smirk crosses your face… this will be cake.

Hold up there bucko. This ride ain’t over yet.

At about 1000 feet you think, huh, that’s a little pressure, I’ll chew some gum.

At 2,000 feet it’s a little annoying but you can deal.

At 5,000 feet you start to wonder, “Hmph, was this a good idea?”

At 10,000 feet you start surreptitiously rubbing your ears hoping you can force them to pop.

At 15,000 feet you start trying to pop your jaw hoping something will keep your ear drum from bursting.

At 20,000 feet you are squirming around in your chair like a 3 year old that needs to potty hoping your eye balls don’t fall out after your ear drums pop.

At 25,000 feet you are curled up in the fetal position sucking your thumb.

At 30,00 feet you feel a little better. That plane levels off. I’ll be okay.

Oh wait. 10 minutes later it’s time to start our decent. We have 45 minutes left in the flight. Everything that just happened happens again only each step takes 5 minutes each.

At one point your colleague asks you if you are going to be okay cause you look like you might cry. She’s really praying that you suck it up cause your the idiot who chose to fly like this.

Somehow you land with both ears drums and eyeballs intact though your seat mate may never want to talk to you again.

Are your eyes still closed?

Do it again less than 24 hours later.

Oh yeah, one last thing, don’t believe the nurse practitioner at Walgreen’s when she tells you you’ll be fine by Monday. She lies.



p.s. mom you can wipe that smug look off your face right now. I KNOW, YOU TOLD ME.

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