Irrational Fears, Pt. II

Inspired by my compatriot, I, too, will present a list of things I have been encouraged to "work through" with a licensed professional:

1) On a plane, heavy turbulence. I grip the plastic cup holding my weak bloody mary to near-breaking. After many minutes of this, the pilot comes on over the intercom to inform us passengers that things are looking pretty rough ahead, to buckle up tight, review relevant safety info, secure the straps on the oxygen thingy under your own chin before those of the chins around you, etc. Convinced the steel bird is going down, I light a Pall Mall with the matches I have surreptitiously stowed in my cleavage and straddle the lap of the balding, liver-spotted man sitting next to me, knowing that if I die, I will die doing the things I love. Within minutes the plane straightens out, we land at our destination ahead of schedule, and I am escorted to airport prison by a federal air marshal.

2) It's my big break: Ira Glass or [insert name of smart, sensitive, middle-aged Jew in the business of winning hearts] has called me up for an interview. "This mind-blowing, awesome job with full dental benefits is all yours," he says, "just answer this last question: what was the last great book you read?" I smile for a moment, furrowing my brow in mock-consternation as if to say, "Oh Ira--playing softball, are we?" I start to think. Then I start to panic, realizing the entirety of English literature has fled my brain. I cannot even remember the name of the mail-order catalogue my grandmother uses to order those plasticine elves she finds so fascinating. "Man-Hut?" I grunt, "Mama's Family? Money Tree?" There is a pause, followed by the tinkle of laughter and the phone being laid on its hook.

3) I'm in third grade. I have just pissed my pants in P.E., and the gym teacher has--rather loudly--instructed me to to go to the office and ask the secretary, Mrs. Swenson, for a pair of sweatpants. When I get to the office, Mrs. Swenson has been replaced by Jordan from New Kids on the Block. I watch how his rattail glistens as he laughs when I ask him for the sweatpants.