A few weeks ago, I decided to get on a plane and fly to Austin, Texas, and no, not because I wanted to protest about the upcoming immigration laws (though that is likely in my nature. Protesting I mean. And in a group, although I am so white I look like the sun when I'm naked). I went to a writing conference. And not just any writing conference, but AWP, the Elvis of Writing Conferences*. I don't know why a writing conference should be held in Texas, but it was in Austin, so I let it slide.
The thing about me is, well, I am terrified of flying. Not just a little terrified, but, you know, panic-attack, white-knuckled-grip, eyes-crossed terrified. If the normal terrified is white bread, my terror would be classified as a thick and hearty ciabatta with olives and herbs. Something of substance and that few people can reproduce on command.
Since I haven't flown post-9/11**, and since the last time I flew, I nearly gave the stewardess an ulcer, I decided to get something for the flight. In this case, something came in a little orange bottle and was also known as "Xanax." Friend One and I immediately begin calling it "Xanadu," mostly because, much like the film, it makes you want to live in a roller rink "where dreams come true," so long as your dreams are "flying without gnawing through your own arm."
Because I am a good, decent 30-something girl, I believed in the Xanadu. Like most people who are young(er) and have little experience with pharmaceuticals (at least legal ones), I believe that All Drugs Will Work and Will Never Give Me Side Effects. I know better, see, because I've been on birth control pills, and I know how crazy they can make me, or anyone for that matter. But I had faith in the Xanadu. I believed in its tininess (mon petit bebe!), its blinding white sphericalness***, its tenderly stamped message "EU786" that reminded me, vaguely, of The Sirens of Titan.
This resulted in the weeks previous to said trip with me having conversations with friends that went something like this:
"I can't wait until my flight to Austin!"
"Why? Did you get bumped to first class or something?"
"Oh no, nothing like that. I'm flying a red eye and I'm sitting in the middle seat of three. But I'm going to be as high as a kite!" Then I would do a Xanadu dance, which utilized a lot of finger jabs and rump-shaking, like I was at a football game. Or more like I was at a Canadian Football League game. Basically, fan base, I thought the flight would be a chance for me to get high--literally and figuratively****.
Okay all, I have to go have a "lunchy-dinner" thing with The Sweet Boy's family. I met his younger sister, CSI Girl*****, yesterday, as well as her husband Fox News******. Now I get to meet the grandparents. No idea what to call them yet, but I'm sure to think of something. Trust me. And more on Austin later. Who knows, maybe in the next installment, I'll actually get to Texas.
*terriblemother
*AWP would be neither a trim and handsome Elvis, aka Jailhouse Rock, nor the nearly-dead, fat-ass Elvis, but more somewhere in the middle: 
**I realize that, technically, I should feel better post-9/11, since there is better security, better systems to Stop Terrorism. But, frankly, I'm more afraid of crashing into the ocean or New Mexico or something than I am of a reenactment of Atta Goes on a Trip. Just saying.
***Sure "sphericalness" is a word when I use it.
****I know that was bad. Sorry and sorry
*****She totally just got a job doing that for a major city. How kick ass is that?
******He totally watches Fox News all the time. How not kick ass is that?
That is the worst excuse for a cliffhanger ever. Please watch Alias or Lost to see how it should be done.
Posted by: freaklikeyou | March 27, 2006 at 09:08 PM
I was at AWP and I don't recall and rollerskating women singing: Xanadu, now that we're here, now we are here in XAN-A-DOOOOO.
The song is stuck in my head though. Next year, you should have a panel on X's--
Xanadu, Xanax, and Xines. ('Zines. With an X).
Posted by: Nicole | March 28, 2006 at 12:31 PM