i just got off a flight from hell and need to vent about it
a journey back to los angeles after a lovely trip to nyc
i recently went to new york for a wedding and spent five days in the city.
and like yes…i was technically there for a wedding…but deep down i was way more excited to be back in new york city and roam around. i mean like…the wedding was fine. it was for an old friend i used to be basically attached at the hip with in college who i barely talk to now…and i have a hunch she only invited me because it would’ve looked weirder not to after how close we used to be. so…i decided to use my time wisely and take my pity invite to her wedding as an excuse to visit the big apple.
and honestly…it was fucking worth it. i had an awesome time. this trip has become a 2026 highlight. i met up with some old friends…discovered some new food spots…and spent a lot of time just reconnecting with the city i called home for six years. it was such a rejuvenating trip. i really do love (and thrive) in new york city.
also lets take a second to look at my wedding guest look! my dress is so gothic and mystical lol i felt so pretty :’)
my flight back to los angeles was scheduled to leave out of jfk at 3:30 pm (the day after memorial day). i woke up that tuesday morning like “omg! i have time before my flight to roam around! i’m totally doing that!”
the morning started out perfectly. the weather was great. i walked over to a nearby coffee shop…got a flat white…and then took a stroll around prospect park (which is genuinely one of my favorite parks ever…to the point where i literally wrote an entire essay about it last year). next thing i know…i’m walking through the park…blasting music through my noise-cancelling headphones…having the absolute time of my life.
slight tangent (but it’s relevant to the story later) but i’m bipolar. i’ve talked about this a few times on my newsletter (here and here) and i’m relatively open about it. i take 300mg of lamictal (a relatively high dose of a mood stabilizer medication) to manage my symptoms so i don’t walk through the world acting like an unhinged lunatic. but the thing about lamictal is that it’s a medication you have to take at the same time every single day. if i don’t take it consistently…two things can happen:
there’s a real risk that my bipolar symptoms can come back (either manic or depressive) and when that happens it can get genuinely scary really fast. considering that the last time i had a manic episode i stayed awake for five days straight, got 15 tattoos over the span of two months (in fact all of my tattoos are things i got while manic), and aimlessly walked by myself from bushwick to 66th street in manhattan at 3am (if you know nyc geography you would know that that is not only very far but also very unsafe)…i don’t wanna go back down that road (or worse). the likelihood of that happening if i don’t stay consistent with my medication…is high.
i could get stevens-johnson syndrome if i’m inconsistent with taking my medication (which is a severe skin reaction that can become life-threatening very quickly). it’s serious enough that this medication has to be taken consistently and restarted carefully if it’s ever stopped. like if i miss more than three days i can get this scary looking rash and potentially die (trigger warning if you click on that link the pics are gross as fuck). and that shit is not cute at all.
so when i say i need to take it every day…i need to take this shit every. single. day. at. the. same. time.
so i’m in prospect park…strolling along…ss26 by charli xcx blasting in my headphones…and my alarm goes off telling me to take my medication. i brought a little pouch w my meds w me bc i knew i’d be outside when it was time for me to take it.
my alarm rings in my headphones. i see a bench nearby. i go to the bench and sit down. i pull out my pouch with my medication. i pull out my big fiji water bottle (that is probably the size of my head). i take my meds with water. i put the medication back in my bag. i get up from the bench and kept walking.
i continue on with my day…making my way to bushwick and stopping by one of my favorite flower shops called stems on knickerbocker (i used to go all the time). i also stopped by sey coffee (a cute coffee shop in bushwick i used to go to from time to time) and got an olive oil & blood orange cake (which was so bomb) before getting my things and heading to jfk.
despite how much i’ve traveled…something i always forget to do is empty my water bottle before going to the airport. so i pulled out my big fiji water bottle and chugged a shit ton of water. i downed at least 3/4 of that thing in one sitting. but as i’m drinking my water…i notice that my tote bag feels a little light. i look in it…
…and my medication is nowhere to be found.
another slight tangent (that is relevant): getting medication refills can be more complicated than it seems. it’s not just a simple “go pick it up when you’re running low” situation the way people often assume like there are refill rules and insurance limits that control when you can actually get more meds…which means you can’t always request a refill whenever you want (it makes sense bc this is a literal regulated medication).
my medication gets refilled on a 30 day cycle…which means i receive a 30 day supply at a time and refills can only be processed once that period is up. in the past when i’ve tried to request a new dosage before that 30 days is up (which has been many times) the pharmacy and insurance will usually reject the request. considering that i got a new prescription the week before my trip...the fear of not being able to receive my medication due to regulations start to kick in.
so naturally…i started to crash out.
i emptied my whole bag…my suitcase…my carry-on…and it’s not anywhere. i called all the places i went to that day…and it was nowhere to be found. i called the uber driver that took me to jfk…and he didn’t see anything in his car. i start to panic bc of course i realize this shit is missing right as i pull up to jfk so it’s not like i can go back into the city and retrace my steps. i start crying and hyperventilating in the middle of the airport as i struggle to figure out how i managed to lose my (very important) medication.
after 30 minutes of scrambling…i realized that time was ticking for me to make my flight. i had no choice but to accept defeat and go check-in. i go check-in…and my suitcase ends up being four pounds overweight (only four pounds!!!!!!). of course i didn’t have any room in my mini carry-on or my tote to put any more clothes in…so i am left with no choice but to pay the $100 overweight bag fee in order for my bag to get on the plane.
(i also forgot to mention that my period also started that morning as well. amazing.)
so now…i’m rushing through security because i spent so long trying to find my meds that i’m running late. i barely make my flight. once i got on the plane i start panic-messaging my psychiatrist through the telehealth messaging system in the final minutes before my five-hour trip back to los angeles takes off…desperately hoping he’ll see my messages and be able to bypass prior authorization so i can receive my prescription before i land (and wont have to wait until june). mind you, before i had this psychiatrist, my last one ghosted me twice when i needed a refill, so i was basically just hoping this new psychiatrist wouldn’t disappear on me when i actually needed help.
i sent my message…took a deep breath…and tried to relax a little as the plane took off. i just surrendered in that moment and thought to myself “you know what…i’ve done all the things in my power to fix this situation…and so i’m going to attempt to calm down”
but…remember that water i chugged before getting on the plane? well it suddenly caught up to me…and now i needed to pee.
really badly.
the seatbelt sign is on (because we had literally just took off) so i couldn’t get up to go to the bathroom until it turned off (obviously). then i was like “ok whatever i’ll just hold it…it will be fine…”
until i remembered.
i was on my period.
and it had been hours since i changed my tampon.
so now here i am…trying to regulate my nervous system about my medication situation…still pissed i had to pay an extra $100 because my bag was only four pounds over the limit…i’m holding onto my bladder for dear life…and now i’m praying that i didn’t bleed through the vintage wool maxi skirt i just bought at the wasteland in silverlake a month ago. tears are flowing and my face is all red. my bloodshot eyes stared at that seatbelt sign for what felt like three hours (but was probably like 30-ish min) waiting for it to turn off. it was a torturous chunk of time…but then the seat belt sign finally turned off and i sprinted to the bathroom. i let out the longest pee of my entire fucking life. i didn’t bleed through anything (thank god) but i was cutting it close. after i took a piss i dried my tears...collected myself…and walked back to my seat.
when i walked back to my seat…i see the woman next to me (a wholesome middle aged australian woman) wiping something up off of my chair. i kindly tap her on the shoulder as she’s cleaning to signal her to move so i can walk by…but then she proceeds to tell me that she spilled water all over my seat.
literally! what the fuck!
as disgruntled as anyone would be if someone spilled water on your airplane seat at the beginning of a five-hour flight…i felt surprisingly forgiving, mainly because i could tell this woman felt absolutely awful as she tried her best to soak up the water with those flimsy airplane napkins. she had also just watched me have a full mental breakdown on the plane (which i think made the spilled water feel a little less catastrophic in comparison) and i already felt bad because i’m not gonna get mad at a woman who had to spend the first thirty minutes of her flight next to an anxious 28-year-old woman sobbing uncontrollably/having a panic attack (aka me).
after she dried it off as much as she could…i just told her it was fine and i sat back down in a damp airplane seat.
then…maybe 10 minutes after i get back from the bathroom…the person sitting behind me starts eating some food that smells absolutely awful. whatever the fuck it was…it smelled super fishy. there needs to be a rule where you can’t eat smelly food on planes. like on some real shit…it’s so disrespectful for all the other noses on a plane. there are so many foods that you can eat that are not smelly. then a baby starts crying immediately after. loud as fuck.
i was at my wits end.
i try to sleep…but the smell of the food is so aromatic to the point where it kept me awake. and the baby just…would not shut the fuck up. but then the smell eventually went away and the baby stopped crying after maybe an hour. my seat started to feel a little bit more dry. i’m thinking to myself, “ok i finally have a little bit of peace…let me try and fall asleep for a little bit.”
ten minutes into my nap and the plane gets hit with a shit ton of turbulence. i’m jolted awake. i could not go back to sleep so i spent the rest of the flight anxiously staring at the cartoon plane inch across the country on the virtual flight map. i have the energy of a deflated balloon.
this story has a happy ending: i landed and found out my psychiatrist was able to send an emergency refill…so i immediately picked it up on my way back from the airport. i got sooooo lucky. i really had some angels on my side who spared me from potentially getting that scary ass rash against my will.
on my uber ride home i was like “wow that was a lot… i think i should talk about this on my newsletter” and so here i am talking about this on my newsletter. my nervous system was so disregulated after this shit. i went home and immediately went to sleep to put an end to that inconvenient airport experience. i don’t remember the last time i had an airport experience as turbulent as the turbulence on the plane i just got off of.
in other news…i did have a really great time in nyc.
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