MAKING SENSE OF ANXIETY - A COURSE by GORDON NEUFELD - PART 1 IN A SERIES ON ANXIETY

I'm in Paris. What a disappointment. Only a whole lot of airport and a whole lot of smog. It's early in the morning, so it's light, but I can't see the tower. I can't see the city. Who really knows if it is Paris after all? Except for the fact that they speak french and they say "Fwanns" instead of "France." This is my last little stop before Kiev. It's been fun traveling alone. The languages are fascinating and exciting to have come to my ears. One french man just gave me directions in pretty good English, however, his directions were wrong and now I have to go back the other way to catch my flight. I sat by two girls all the way from Detroit to Paris. Not a word of English, except for to say, "I can't speak English." To which I can't even respond, "I don't speak French."

I'm surprised at how Hollywood is everywhere. Why? In every language, it's the same stars. Who cares? Apparently we all do. I don't get it.

Everyone . . . I mean everyone is always on their cell phones. The flight attendants come by when we land and ask people to stay seated, please, and put your cell phones away. The people stand and use their cell phones.

I go through "security." I guess living next to the United States has changed all of my understanding of the definition of this word. Security here is a mere attempt at the appearance of the effort towards being somewhat secure. Stewardesses arrive and walk around security instead of going through it. Some guy comes and has to remind them, "you must go through it." They shrug. Whatever. Maybe next time. But they comply. I am getting my boarding pass for the next flight. The man doesn't speak much English and I get the impressing he's trying to just get rid of me without giving away the limits of his skills. "do you have food or water?" He asks. "Yes." "You can't bring it . . . I think." He says. I think? The ticket is printed and I walk away. He looks relieved. I quickly eat a protein bar I have in my bag and drink my water but I leave some other food items in my bag. I go through security. They don't even care. They don't even look. I just chowed down on that protein bar for nothing.

Someone's cologne is making my eyes sting. I need to sleep - I can feel a headache coming on. I look for my gate. Kiev B22A it says on my ticket. But there is no B22A. Just B22. But no one seems to mind. Maybe the "A" on my ticket was wrong. Oh well. As long as it gets me to Kiev I'm fine.


Getting here, I had to take a bus around the airport. I felt a little insecure about my luggage as I watched little golf carts scooting around with suitcases bouncing in the back trailer. Not tied down. Oh well. They are the airline company. This is their job. They should know what they're doing.