Crying in Public (The Power of Adrenaline)

I had two bad (understatement) experiences flying home on Sunday. The first started out fairly low-level … an oversized man was pouring over the armrest between us on a tiny airplane. I tried my best to lean way out into the aisle to avoid having his body pressed up against mine, but it was to no avail. Plus, he wasn’t even trying to stay in his own space AND he was eating some huge, meaty, onion-y sandwich while drinking a soda while eating Cheetos. It was extremely gross and violating and I thought about trying to get the flight attendant to make an announcement to see if anyone would change seats with me (for the benefit of knee/leg space in the aisle seat) … BUT … it was an hour flight and I know that by the time I called her over, explained the situation, she made an announcement, IF a volunteer said they wanted to switch, we made the switch … it would’ve been the entire 30 minutes allowed for the drink service. So my inconvenience would have cost the entire plane their five pretzels and tiny cup of soda. So I closed my eyes, turned up my iPod on my Bose earphones, and tried tried TRIED to not think about how much my shoulder hurt from the pressure of this man’s body. (It really did feel like a sexual assault.)

Of course, the moment we arrived at the gate and the captain turned off the seat belt sign, I was up and into the aisle. Again, trying to take deep breaths and think about God’s grace and happy thoughts and NOT the last hour of my life. But then. One row ahead of me, a very athletic, muscular man had to tug and tug and TUG to get his bag out of the minuscule overhead bin and on about the fifth, braced, pull a five-foot long piece of metal that was apparently attaching the overhead bin to the airplane SWUNG and SNAPPED. Flying across my face and missing me by less than an inch.

Seriously? It was as if I had been SHOT. One inch differential and they would have been calling an ambulance for gushing blood.

So what happened? I cried. I did. I tried to hold it in. I didn’t mean to cry. I didn’t want to cry. I was in public AND I was about to see my children and I didn’t want to upset them. But I had no choice. Adrenaline had been building and building inside of me and then, with that CRACK of metal, it was released.

If I had been a trained member of the military or policeman? Sure. I could’ve taken it all. No problem. That’s why they have boot camp and constant training, right? Stress stress stress—but you still do your job. You storm the beach. You jump out of the plane. You don’t stand there paralyzed and crying. But being just a little ol’ civilian, I cried.

I don’t even know why I’m blogging all of this except to say that adrenaline is a very powerful drug. It is. Whether it flares during a conflict or in response to a wolf mentally covering your two-year old with savory spices, it is real and it’s helpful to be aware of it. Otherwise, we’ll be asking ourselves, “Why am I crying in the baggage claim of the Billings airport?!” Rather than saying, “Man. There is nothing I can do to stop this. But it won’t last forever. Before too long, my body will line up with my thinking and my theology that I am safe.” No matter what.

Hope your Monday has been a blessed one! I’ll have all of the orders from New Mexico in the mail Tuesday morning with the exception of three orders for Ed Welch’s “Running Scared” because they are just a few days backordered. (Sorry about that!)

Blessings and g’nite,
Tara B.