Page 6 of Holiday Unscripted
December 14th
First day of hell
I look around as more and more people start to come and wait by the belt, and people from my flight start to arrive at the carousel as they wait for their luggage too.
The first couple of bags come out and I’m ready to jump at any moment, especially since I have a priority sticker on mine. Five suitcases come out and then it stops for a good fifteen minutes. The same bags going around and around again. Everyone is looking around and the frustration level rises, along with the fact it looks like another flight has just landed and their bags are also coming to this carousel.
I pull out my phone and text my brother Jack.
Me: Mom forgot me at the airport.
Jack: Boo hoo, you’re old enough to know how to get home.
Me: Wow, someone is salty today.
Jack: While you’ve been relaxing in business class and your own pod, I’ve been trying to deal with all the relatives who have descended on us and now have to be housed in different places.
Me: Well, you sound like you need some Christmas cheer.
Jack: Fuck off.
Me: Now this is what I’m talking about. Merry fucking Christmas.
Jack: I’ll see you soon.
I decide to text my father next.
Me: When are you coming home? We miss you so much. Home feels so empty without you here. Does that sound familiar? Because that’s what you guys tell me at least twice a week. Now that I’m here, you guys forget to pick me up at the airport. Nice. Good parenting. Father of the Year award goes to… NOT YOU.
Daddio: Will you ever forgive me for not picking up my adult child, who lives across the ocean and is her own person? Her words not mine.
Me: Well, now I know what I’m going to be discussing at my next therapy session.
Daddio: You go to therapy?
Me: You pay for it.
Daddio: Wait, is that the charge of one hundred and eighty-five dollars every month?
Me: That is correct. It’s because of you I’m in there in the first place, you should be paying for it.
Daddio: Maybe you’re in therapy because you miss us and want to move back home.
Me: Definitely not. Especially not now that you FORGOT your daughter at the airport!
Daddio: I didn’t forget you anywhere. Your mother once forgot you at school, now that is forgetting you. But you getting on a plane and landing isn’t us forgetting you.
Me: Wow, this is why my therapist says you gaslight me.
Daddio: WHAT!
I laugh and I’m about to answer him when my brother texts me.
Jack: What did you just tell Dad?
Me: I have no idea what you’re talking about.
Jack: He just asked me if he gaslights me.
