to sleep, perchance to dream

Airport, leaving, the part I hate. I'm disoriented a bit from the wine, and with my glasses I can't see well. I have impressions of people rather than the details of their appearance. Across from me is an older tweaker couple-- she with fried hair out horizontal in a shapeless oversize hot pink top and a new foot tattoo, he balding with huge high hightop sneakers, a fanny pack and a really deep laugh. The sounds of one-sided cellphone conversations, planes moving outside, and luggage crashing through metal detectors all sound sinister. Erik's falling asleep in drifts, listening to music through headphones. The alcohol and time have already made me sleepy, but I know how my mind will resist it. When do I take the Diphendydramine? Should I take this blue pill? Will I be out of it when we arrive in New York?

I am such a worrywart. As Cory says, I'm fretting.