Anxiety and Airports

So it turns out that anxiety and airports do not mix well, at least not in my case...not that it was rocket science to begin with. Airports are crowded with people all trying to get someplace else in the quickest way possible. Today left me completely unravelled and nearly stranded me in Toronto. The day started off okay, as I whipped through the last few things I had to do at my mother's apartment before I left. Printing photos off, hanging frames, taking down recycling and garbage, etc. And let's not forget the last minute packing. So much stuff...where does it all come from. For once I'd like to board a plane with nothing more than a boarding pass and my passport, instead of being loaded down like a pack mule. I managed to get it all done, and got myself off to the airport by noon as planned. Checked my rental car in, and off to check-in for my flight.

So here is where the trouble begins...airports have become filled to the brim with self check-in kiosks. Like hundreds of them, and they are not all the same. There are dozens per airline for checking in and printing boarding passes. There are more for checking in your own luggage, and yet more for checking in at customs. One would think that if I am doing all the damn work, and there are kiosks for every single thing, that things would proceed in a much more efficent way. One would be wrong, ever so very wrong. First of all, some of them don't work, and they all work differently. Some  are accompanied by staff who hover while you fumble through, while others appear to be abandoned by the airport with no one in sight. One cannot progress through without stopping at one or more of these kiosks. There are no signs to direct you to the process you must follow and there are all kinds of exceptions that are not noted and you have no idea about until you have already wasted precious time and patience trying to figure out why the fucker doesn't work for you. 

So I try easily print off my first two boarding passes, unsure of why I do not have my fhird and final boarding pass. Now what? I still have to check my bags. Why didn't I get an option to check my bag. Ok, fumble around through more kiosks and more lines, more useless signs, and try another kiosk which then tells me I have checked in already, and there is nothing left to do. WTF? What about my luggage? I finally track down someone who can help who explains that one cannot check bags through the self-checkout if one is travelling through to another country like America. Ok, now what?? So she checks my bags in for me and I'm finally on my way. Onto the plane with lots of time to spare. Phew. Should be easy sailing from here. Sure...

I arrive in Toronto after an uneventful flight and proceed to the baggage claim that happens to be what seems like 2kms through the airport. As luck would have it, my backpack was the first one on the baggage carosel, and before long my second bag came along. Terrific! Now I have to proceed to customs so I can drop my bags off again and get to the gate for my next flight. Well holy dirty dying fuck a duck...I'm not sure what in the hell has happened to Pearson airport, but it got complicated and confusing since the last time I was there, which was only 2 months ago....between a thousand kiosks, too many other confused people standing around, and people who have just left their luggage standing in the middle of the pathway through, and big groups of people blocking all access to where I need to go, and I'm ready to go postal. First I stand in the wrong line only to be told to go to a kiosk. Okay, let's check-in as I need my final boarding pass and to drop my luggage off before I head through to my gate. Easier said than done...I try to check in only to have another one that doesn't work. I go to the next one only to be told I have missed the check-in time - WTF???? I check the time and I have only 45 min before my flight boards and I haven't even been through customs yet. I begin to unravel here...my coping skills have suffered since I've been dealing with anxiety and PTSD...I lose control and begin crying and sobbing, nattering on about missing my flight and how confusing the process is here. 

Staff member finally comes over and tries to settle me down so we can get somewhere. She checks me in, prints my final boarding pass and directs me to go through customs and then proceed to gate 12. It goes from bad to worse here. I look for signs that say where to go and what to do...there are none. I look around to see if anything makes sense and of course I am drawn to yet another fucking kiosk to proceed with a customs questionnaire...of course the first one does not work so I must find another one. I finally get through that, print my customs form off and am directed to the customs corral where I am sent to line up once again, this time for the US customs check and stamp in my passport. I tell her that my flight is boarding shortly and I need to hurry. She doesn't give a shit. Line up and shut up is the order of the day. After 20 excrutiating minutes in a line that goes NOWHERE, I am finally permitted to go to a customs counter. By that point I'm pretty upset, sobbing and a complete mess, certain there is no way to possibly make my flight and wondering how in the fuck I am going to reach Angela to tell her I missed the flight - she does not have a cell phone. Mr customs man takes pity on the soggy mess in front of him and whips me through the process, and directs me to the next step - drop your suitcases off and carry on through security. I leave the cart and grab my bags where I am stopped immediately and asked if that was my cart - out of patience, I tell her it is not my cart, as in I do not own it. Another guy rats me out, the fucker, and she tells me I must move the cart from one side to the other - mind you there is not a single sign to say this, nor are there any other carts - what are people meant to do with them? I tell her I am in a hurry - she doesn't give a rats ass. Fuck it, I'll move the cart 2 feet away if that will please your highness...fuck me. 

Then I am directed to line up for security yet again with no real process for which line means what, and no one will answer my questions. Bastards. So I begin to unravel again as the clock ticks and my flight has begun to board and there I am, stuck in securty line up. I shout out to anyone I can gain attention from to let them know I am going to miss my flight unless someone helps me out. No one responds at all, as in completely ignoring me by this point. I lose my shit, and begin swearing. Still nothing. There are dozens of people lined up by this point, with only 2 customs officers on - Saturday night, schools out, summer has begun and there are only 2 customs officers on at one of the busiest airports in Canada. Sounds about right.

Finally it is my turn and I am shuffled through where of course I must take out half my shit to be scanned, and I am fearing the worst - I will be randomly selected for a special screening yet again - it already happened in Halifax. Thankfully it didn't and I was able to race off to my gate finally where it was in the process of boarding. I am still a fucking mess, but trying to choke down some air as I realize I have made it, I won't miss the flight, and things will carry on as they should. Except I have anxiety and nothing is simple. I am a sobbing fucking mess and cannot seem to get my shit together to calm down. The flight attendant on board sees this right away as I load myself onto the plane and shuttles me off to the bathroom with a glass of water to gather myself again. Within a few moments I am able to get myself together enough to go find my seat. I'm seated by the window which is good, but the weats on American Airlines are downright claustrophobic. Just what I need. I'm seated next to a quiet older Asian couple who graciously move so I can get into my seat where I then fall apart again, as silently as I can so as not to draw too much attention. I'm steaming hot, thristy as hell, stressed to the ma, and sobbing uncontrollably. All I can think about is how close I came to missing the flight, and how  upset I am about being upset - secondary anxiety my psych guy calls it. I sob through about the first hour of the flight until they finally come around with beverages - I take a beer and a ginger ale. 

So now I am still cramped into my tiny seat, trying to keep it together...it is a mixed bag - sometimes I can, and sometimes I am sobbing yet again. The horse is definitely out of the barn...breathe in, breathe out, choke down another sob, breathe in, breathe out...sigh...I will be so glad to see Angela tonight and crash in my bed...