Instead of thinking about the fact that I have my first therapy appointment today I’m worrying about this trip. Hey, I never said I didn’t know how to fill my time!

Disaster # 1 - The Plane Will Crash and/or I will lose my shit while on the plane.
Seriously, I have never been good at the air travel thing. Take offs and landings are the worst. I’m the one gripping the arm rests and whispering (what I remember of) The Lord’s Prayer. This is why I try to fly in the morning, after a long night of cocktails and no sleep. Sleep is the only way for me to get through flying because I CANNOT stand sitting still for any length of time. First of all, these legs weren’t meant for flying. It’s a good thing I’m flexible because crossing your legs on an airplane is practically a yoga maneuver when you only have about an inch of clearance between your knees and the seat in front of you. Second, whose idea was it belt me in next to a stranger? I don’t like strangers on a good day. Now picture me exhausted, hung over and terrified on a tin can hurtling towards earth. I don’t want to talk to them, look at them, or god forbid smell them.  Speaking of smells, I get airsick. Oh yeah, don’t you want to take a cross country flight with me now?
Odds of this actually occurring? 50/50  (These figures are not based on scientific data, unless my irrational, fear addled brain is considered science.)
What ya gonna do about it?  Use the sheer power of will to keep the plane in the air, of course.  For restlessness I’ve saved the first episode of Tourgasm and I’m a week behind on episodes of Nightline, so the iPod will keep me amused while I’m forced to sit still.  Everything in between will hopefully be numbed with painkillers.

Disaster # 2 - I will die cold and alone in Chicago
My aversion to strangers is second only to airports in the travel continuum of hell. The first time I traveled by myself I had to fly to Minnesota for work. My layover was in Atlanta. I would pay good money for a picture of my face when I realized I was going to have to take a train in that airport. I didn’t sign up for any damn trains. Airports are just too big, too many strangers, too many signs. Everyone is anxious and pissy. In a momentary brain lapse I agreed to have my layover at O’Hare for this trip. I’m much more uncomfortable with scary places when I’ve never been there before. And I haven’t heard anything good about Chicago’s airport since I booked these flights. I’m going to get lost in the airport, miss my connection, and curl into the fetal position some where in Illinois.
Odds of this actually occurring? 15%
What ya gonna do about it?  I’ve already furiously googled both of the airports I have to go to and committed maps to memory. 

Disaster # 3 - They lose my luggage and/or I forget to pack something.
I don’t know why I just thought of this because it has never once happened. I’ve been lucky in luggage and I never forget to pack anything, I make too many lists to forget anything.  Maybe I just thought of that because I’m due for a luggage disaster, and this would be the worst trip for it to happen on since we will be driving from West Virginia back to AZ. Knock on wood, people. I want to hear the echo of the internets knocking on wood right now!
Odds of this actually occurring?  3 in 5, simply because I’ve jinxed myself.
What ya gonna do about it?  I’ve already started the lists (Obsessive compulsive!) so forgetting something probably won’t be a problem.  Can’t do much about asshole airlines sending your suitcase to Guatemala except pray.

Disaster # 4 - Various physical ailments.
I have a weak stomach. Flying, makes me hurl. Being a passenger in a car makes me nervous, and when I’m nervous I hurl.  I don’t tolerate heat or humidity very well, which makes me feel like I’m going to pass out, right after I hurl. Being overly tired, stressed out, eating food that’s different then I’m used to, it all makes me nauseous. So, a day of flying, followed by who knows how many days of driving through middle America.  In August.  With a best friend who is emotionally spent.  And I’m starting to not feel so great…  Also, I can’t move much these days.  I threw my back out the day after we made this plan. Walking is uncomfortable right now. I can barely make it through a day of work, where most of what I do is sit on my ass. This kid is crazy if he thinks we’re doing this trip straight through, sleeping in a moving truck is not an option for me.
Odds of this actually occurring?  110%   There’s almost no chance of me getting through this trip without yakking at least once.
What ya gonna do about it?  Jeff can handle it. He quickly moved out of my way the time I turned green and ran to the bathroom at a bar, only because I was stressed out. And I watched while he released the prior night’s ham snack off the back porch onto the yard below. So, actually, I’ll just be evening the score when I lose my lunch on the side of the highway.  But maybe I try to snag one of those barf bags from the plane.  Not much I can do about my back.  I’ll get picked on forever for this, but I’m totally planning to bring the heating pad.  Painkillers aren’t really an option.  If I don’t go to sleep almost immediately after taking them I… well… I hurl.  Shocking, I know.

Disaster # 5 - The moving truck is a colossal piece of shit.
I worked in the reservation center for a huge moving truck company for way too long. Oh, the horror stories I could tell you. First of all, this thing better have a good air conditioner because my fuse is fantastically short while I’m overheated, that is if I’m able to remain conscious at all. Second, it better not even think that it’s allowed to break down. We are poor, and I’m not trying to hang out on the side of a highway for two days while they come to fix some broken down truck. Not only that, but if it’s broke broke we’ll have to unload/reload it ourselves. And me, with the lifting? Not so much. I’ll be turning tricks on the highway to get people to move furniture.
Odds of this actually occurring?  Inconclusive.  I’m skewed because of the horrendous years I spent in the hell that is a call center. 
What ya gonna do about it?  I’m not going to do shit about it.  Jeff’s the boy.  I don’t know crap about anything under the hood, including headlights!

Disaster # 6 - I have to kill him.
Being with someone 24 hours a day for days on end isn’t always easy. But 24 hours a day while on the road, that’s a whole new psychological experiment. Road trips are hard. When I moved to Virginia the trip went great. We managed to get three vehicles, two cats and the four of us to our destination in four days.  The move back from Virginia was a whole different ball game. Same two cats, one vehicle, and a different combination of people. I’m not kidding when I say that very, very few words were spoken in that car across the last three states. It was hell on wheels.  By the time we left Texas I was scanning the map for places to drop off the offending parties where they could survive until we sent a rescue party.  It was bad.
Odds of this actually occurring?  Slim to none.  Jeff and I both love road trips and we’ve only gotten into one fight in the last two years.  Yes, I ordered him not to speak to me for the rest of the night and he threw my car keys in the parking lot, but we were fine by the time we left the bar that evening.  He’s been through a lot, and I’m stressed, but we always manage to have fun together, even when we are completely screwing up projects (See:  The desk we built, and jacked up).  My ex constantly turned my radio down, a highly punishable offense, and I made it through several road trips without stabbing him in the jaw.  We should be fine.
What ya gonna do about it?  John already agreed to pick up the body, if necessary.

Strangely, pecking all of my worries out made me feel better.  Who needs therapy?!