Just the highlights.
Like breaking my french press, then the cup of coffee I did manage to salvage, The Bastard Prince knocked over. Or how about having to ask the cab driver to pull over, to allow me to vomit outside his door because I had motion sickness.
Oh, I can't leave this one out: leaving my wallet on a park bench, and couldn't remember where I left it. Fortunately for me, I have wonderful karma. I found it on the bench a little while later.
... thank you positive energy ...
That was all just trying to get to my friend's 50th birthday party. Oh, I got there.
Nobody knew that I had a hard time getting there, and I certainly wasn't going to go on about it at a celebration, so I enjoyed myself and met new people.
At the end, when everyone left, I was waiting for my 'short bus' to come get me. True to their service, they'll get you there, but getting home? Nope. They think it's ok to leave me stranded in our city park that has no way to get out but walk.
Yeah, walk. The 'Romney' type Americans who took over the company seem to forget they are dealing with people with disabilities.
It was an hour after waiting that a very sweet couple from the party had returned from a walk in the park. They lived near me, and couldn't believe I was still there waiting for a ride.
They felt so bad for me, they offered to take me home. I'll bet they'll never do that again.
You see, they had found me crying at the side of the road.
The rest of the ecstatic people at Stanley Park were busy getting wedding pics with happy shiny faces, or walking their dogs, or walking hand in hand with someone they love, and all I could do was stare down at my phone, pretending I was text messaging.
Really all I was doing was trying to hide my face from crying out of frustration of being left at the side of the road again. Then I was crying from being embarrassed about crying in public.
However, I didn't expect to also be the crazy lady of the crowd.
As we approached their vehicle, a car happened to drive past, with an extremely abusive man who yelled at his girlfriend, which was followed by a slap and her head moving swiftly toward her passenger window.
I screamed at the top of my lungs, "AAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGGHHHH YOU MOTHER FUCKING BASTARD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
That was the moment that the two wedding parties, who were getting their 'best day of their life' logged on film beside our beautiful ocean, turned to look at what the 'crying girl' was now screaming about.
As I began to dial 9-1-1 to report the license of this hideous being, the boyfriend of the sweet rescue couple asked me why I yelled and why I'm calling 9-1-1.
"Because, he hit her in the head!"
"Actually, I saw him hit the dashboard."
Oh, my god.
The embarrassment was now so overwhelming, that I couldn't stop apologizing and telling them that I really am not always like this, but that I have P.T.S.D. They didn't know what that was, so I enlightened them as I spoke through my tears.
I proceeded to tell them The World's Loudest Snorer had just passed away as well, so I'm not really feeling myself.
It was a quiet ride for half an hour, until the ice was broken by a joke. Their little dog had crawled up on my lap, and being that he's part chihuahua, they were surprised, saying, "Wow! He's warming up to you!"
I figured he knew I needed love at that moment, but their story sounded better.
"Yeah, he probably said to himself, 'OK, so this one isn't screaming anymore, I guess she's OK'," said the demure, oh so very pretty, new person I met.
It's moments like this that I just want to get out of the city and into the Dominican Republic, where all I have to worry about are creatures with 4 legs, or a garden to feed me.
Get me out of dodge before I lose it.
i am willing to let go of what other people think of me