Tuesday, 8 November 2016

Shock Priority = Food

I remember getting to the hotel room and telling myself that I needed food.  I'm not sure what time it was by then, but it was maybe 3pm.  Or a little earlier.  But although I might not have technically been hungry (I forget) I knew that having food was a good idea.  So I put my shoes back on and headed out, in a daze, having consulted google on my computer (guess there was a reason I took my computer after all, eh?) to find out where the closest place was.

I ordered up a burger and fries and a milkshake and smiled at the people in the restaurant and ate a few bites and knew I'd never finish it so asked them to pack it up for me to take home.  I smiled a lot.  I was ok!  See?  Nothing was wrong if I was having a milkshake, right?  Yay!  Just a temporary stop and hey, milkshakes, ha ha ha everything is fine, milkshake!  I took myself and the bag of food to the store across from the hotel and bought some snacks and oh yeah, booze (Jason had said it was a good idea to have a drink or two so I bought booze... in the store, because they sell it there... so odd) and I headed back to the hotel room and at some point I think I had a shower and maybe even washed my hair and then I think I just sort of sat there texting and being online and trying to make things be "normal."

I even posted.  Vaguely, maybe, but I couldn't type out all that had happened, it was all just too much.  And I really wasn't ok.  I don't think I lost it completely that night, but I do remember finally being exhausted and wanting to sleep and then being unable to because when I closed my eyes there would be a video playing in my mind of the van catching fire, or the van rolling over with me in it, or the wheel coming completely off and me careening into traffic or off the side of a cliff or, or, or and so sleep was pretty impossible to come by.

I told a few key people, and cried each time they apologized that they weren't able to come get me, because again, I just wanted to be home, and I just wanted someone to come rescue me.

I mean, really, that was the thought I kept having... can someone please just come rescue me?  I begged Jason.  Begged him.  I know his days are flexible enough that he could come, but I forgot he doesn't have a passport.  I offered to have his emergency made up so he could come get me.  He apologized that he just wasn't able to come.  My brother said he wished he could but his work schedule wouldn't allow it, sorry.  Our "car guy" friend wasn't even reachable and I'd somehow thought he would for sure magically rescue me if anything went wrong.  But no.  It seemed no one was coming to save me and carry me home.

Someone later asked me if I had asked my parents, but no, I didn't even tell my parents this happened until I was safely home.  My parents wouldn't have been able to do the drive and they wouldn't have been able to change the situation except to worry, and I didn't want anyone else upset about this.  I was upset enough about it for all of us.

There were, after a couple of days, surprise offers of help from strangers online.  But I didn't feel I could accept any of them.  What about my gear?  What if they were crazy?  So I was on my own, with Jason to help and no one coming to rescue me.

But yeah, that first hotel day, I got some food and then some snacks and I rested.  That was all I was capable of doing.  I must have fallen asleep at some point that night, but it was awful trying to sleep.  And no, I didn't drink.  I might have had half of one but I just didn't feel like it.

I had just left the playa that morning, and I hadn't gotten very far and I had no idea how or when or even if I was getting home.  It felt like it had been a year since I'd left my apartment and I just wanted to be back there on the couch I wish I'd never left.


Anonymous said...

how far away from your home were you when all this was happening??

Victoria said...

It's approximately 1100km (or 650 miles) (or 13 hours of straight driving and then a two hour ferry plus whatever other time)