SassyBlonde

Sometimes the aftermath of an event is as strange and devastating to get through as the event itself, and it's surprising to me that I never remember how hard it can be to deal with.

I must have had a fever of some degree last night, because this morning I felt weak as a kitten dragging my bags downstairs to the bus to fly to Beijing. I knew when I got up that I still wasn't one hundred percent better, and like any good Southern belle, I took that as a sign that it was time for the war paint.

See, as y'all know, I grew up in the South and as any Southerner knows, women down there live by the ideal that no one should ever see you not at your best in terms of appearance, much less see you sweat, even if you're just going to the 7-11, so I got up this morning and put on my nicest outfit-- the one I bring along for business dinners-- and did my hair and makeup and breathed deep while making my way downstairs for our next leg of travel. It's amazing how much a little facade can help you bolster yourself for a less-than-ideal situation.

I skipped on breakfast as such per the advice of my doc, who I called via Skype for a little consult (her response: "Oh fuck, you're calling me from China. This can't be good." Love her, srsly) and stuck with white toast and the Gatorade which Frankenberry was kind enough to score for me the night before when I got back to the hotel. And then the plane flight: let me tell you, never underestimate the power of pressure points: it was the only way I white-knuckled it through the flight to Beijing and I've never been so glad to be off a plane (P6 and LI4). I don't think I've ever been so glad to see a familiar hotel-- the Howard Johnson Plaza Royale-- I dropped off my stuff, popped downstairs for lunch, and then scored an epic power nap and got ready for the concert.

Though I felt all right when I started the performance, as I started to play through to the point where I got sick the night before I began to freak out: Would it happen again? Could I do this? Was my BG normal? Did I have my water bottle? It never occurred to me to prepare myself for this being rough, but it really blew me away how like PTSD it felt-- I could feel all of the things that had happened the night before again, though without the bite of the actual sickness. All I could do was breathe deeply and work my water bottle like a job, but I managed to make it through all right with my game face on, war paint and all. Back onto the bus, where I dozed until we got back to the hotel and dinner, which I was too tired to eat, and now I'm for sleep because tomorrow is the Forbidden City and Temple of Heaven!!