I gasped as I tripped over a miniscule divot recessed in the sidewalk.
“What’s wrong?” Becca asked, as she looked back.
“I just almost fell and and broke every single one of my teeth on the asphalt!” I explained.
“She kind of tripped,” Jess added in a tone that suggested she was rolling her eyes, “and immediately jumped to the worst possible conclusion.”
It’s true. I’m prone to hyperbolic thought. And it’s the worst thing ever.
Things don’t just happen to me. They HAPPEN to me, in capital letters that have been made bold and italicized. Everything is Pearl Harbor all over again, from spilling fingernail polish to almost hitting a squirrel.
I’m leaving for Las Vegas in 2 days and I have been so sick with nerves that today I regretted not buying a refundable ticket. Vacations are my number one source of stress. It’s like a New Year’s Eve party times a thousand. The pressure to have fun is so immense that I just want to nap until it’s over.
Here are some vacation-ruining scenarios I have played out in my head when I should have been paying attention to a professor’s lecture or a friend’s story:
- I meet Ryan Gosling during my layover. As we chat, seemingly totally entranced with each other, he excuses himself to the bathroom indicating he will be right back. As I watch him walk towards the bath — wait, that’s not the direction of the bathrooms. Wait, why is he sitting down over there? Next to that other girl? He’s coming back though, right?
- I accidentally fall into the Grand Canyon during our day trip to said Canyon. I subsequently become the first person in the world to discover that the Grand Canyon is an endless hole in the Earth, defying all sorts of science. I then become the first person in the world to die of boredom after free – falling for 4 days. “Ryan Gosling could have loved me if he tried!” I would scream moments before drawing my last, bored breath.
- I find out that there’s no CVS within walking distance of my hotel on the strip. This is a real, legitimate fear.
- Las Vegas is 99 degrees fahrenheit when we land. Oh wait, that’s reality and it’s awful. I can’t wait to be totally disgusted with the amount of sweat dripping from my body. Each drip reminding me that I am disgustingly human, each drop an answer to the ever burning question, “Am I gross?” (“Yes.”)
- I become so enthralled with the limelight that is legal prostitution that I decide to rescind my life as a 23-year-old college student who works part time to support her cell phone habit and writes for the Internet to support her narcissism habit in favor of a life of legal Bunny Ranches.
- I don’t meet Ryan Gosling at all.