Awaking to the Terror Plot Or How My Insulin Victory May Turn Sour

I was in Brooklyn, sleeping on the living room couch of Sylvie and Andre, trying to get my head around a little romance that has been brewing between me and a baker from Harlem and the anemic cash flow that is effecting my quality of life in the Big Apple when I hear Soledad O'Brien say something about a terrorist plot and dangerous liquids in plastic bottles.

I went back to sleep.

This has been a problem of mine. Lately, if I must sleep alone, I have to have the TV on and the volume down low. A friend of mine said it is a sign of loneliness. I have not talked to my counselor about this, but insert the Harlem baker into my bed and this little quirk does go away.

Anway, I awake about 2 hours later at 9:00 am to hear that all shit has broken loose and if you are flying anywhere in the country or overseas then no liquids are allowed in carry-on-bags. Nor can you drink your last can of Arizona Ice Tea's Watermelon Punch that your jiggaboo ass bought in bulk at Sam's Wholesale Club. Isn't that a hot ass mess of a situation? Not that I discourage it or think that it is invasive; it is just very serendipitous that I just got finish writing about my airplane flight from Nashville to NYC and outlined in detail my the condition of my bad nerves and how my insulin pump could be mistakened for a bomb that is strapped my body.

Later that day, through all of the coverage, I heard another CNN reporter list all the exceptions to the rule . . . insulin is on the list.

OK. Cool. But my name must always be on the prescription bottle. I remember when I first became diabetic I used to just buy the insulin without a prescription, but in the last 10 years a bottle has gone from 30 dollars in this country to 60 dollars. So, I don't do that anymore. But the other thing that is nerve racking is that I have thrown away all of the boxes that contained my Novolog short acting insulin and my Lantus long acting insulin. I just have the little bottles. The problem is that my name and prescription numbers are written on the box. The carrying cases for insulin and needle are made to hold viles of insulin not boxes . . . they won't fit in my refrigirated cases any other way.

I wonder what other restrictions I will have to endure in the future? Am I the canary in the mine shaft, experiencing first hand the restrictions of our new American society that is beginning to look more and more like an Israeli security style state? I love the way the conservatives have boiled down all drastic changes of public policy and societal regulations into advertising agency outsourced sound bites like "The New Normal." Our consumerist society is very receptive to digesting information in this way. Is this fashion? No, it is not! It is as much fashion as my insulin pump is an accessory.

I mean, first I am treated like a fucking crackhead by the granola children at Wild Oats in Green Hills. Not to mention the William Sonnoma incident where the bitch told me I could not afforn anything in the story. Then, I can't marry my boyfriend. Now I can't fly.

Funny, Brooklyn, the Bronx and Harlem seem so safe to me now.