i made a whirlwind inspired trip east for 25 hours this past weekend for a
bachelor party i had to throw. It went off without a hitch, caught a big fish
and all, except on the return flight to denver, i had me a mean migraine
mid-flight. i haven't had one in two years and damn i sorta forget, they're
hell. i didn't summon up the hidden paramedic in the stewardesses as they
had no ibuprofen so i sat it out until i nearly crawled off the plane and
found some chairs to sleep in for the two hour layover.
oh yeah, Master O Migraine (M.O.M.) did it again! he did not crash and
burn. he did not strangle the women loudly discussing the uselessness of
spicy mexican food and boys who online role play as women. no jabbing
sharp objects into his eye socket to release the mounting death-clamp
pressure on his left eyeball. no sir-ee, he did none of the sort.
M.O.M. sat eyes closed, breathing slower than vishnu, all energy focused on
the pain as if watching it on a black and white television set. metal strap
cinched around the firm, pale white, and liquid filled eyeball. veins black like
pulsing stream beds on the surface. he watched the turning of the clamp's
tightening screw while listening to the carbonated bubbles break on the
surface of his club soda, which sat nauseously on the foldout tray. POP!
POP! POP!POP! went the low sodium carbonized water.
Images of his undoing burst rhythmically in front of him. past rent due.
sleeping with one of his only friends' wife. bank account low again. the
jobless abyss. the medical bills, the car not running, the pregnancy test,
the lonely home, the dirty roommates, POP! POP! and she kept talking
about her ex-husband and how he used her all along. POP!POP!
this went on for some time but M.O.M. did it. he got off the plane slow and
slept in denver. and now, monday, washed of his sins, the sun can shine again.
M.O.M.'s a new man.