Dr. K: We should ride the High Roller sometime.
Me: The what?
Dr. K: Giant Ferris Wheel on the Strip? Can’t miss it.
Me: Oh, no thank you. That’s all you. I’ll skip that panic attack.
Dr. K: It’s not that bad, you’d be fine.
Me: I would be cramped in a confined space with 39 other people. They will use up all my air.
Dr. K: That’s not even remotely possible.
Me: I will be dead before we reach the top. I will be hauled off that ride in a body bag. Fuck the whole “head towards the light” thing. My ghostly ass will be haunting you for decades.
Dr K: Stop being paranoid
Me: The ride will break down. We’ll be stuck 550 ft in the air until they figure out how to get out of there. It could take DAYS. I don’t have enough Xanax for that. Or food. I’d probably be the first to go if everyone turns cannibal. I’m sure all the anxiety meds make me super tasty.
Dr. K: You don’t have enough Xanax now! Do you know how much planning, testing and engineering know-how went into building that thing? It’s safer than driving a car!
Me: …No it’s not! I’m in control of the car when I drive. I’m a bystander on that thing. A poor, innocent little expendable white woman. If this were a Disaster movie, I’d be gone in the first 15 mins of the film.
Dr. K: There are no words to describe the level of crazy you are at right now.
Me: I know right? Oh my gawd! What if we got on and I suddenly had to pee really bad? It’s like an HOUR before you can get off that thing. What if I can’t hold it for an hour???
Dr. K: You’d have a new humiliating incident to share with your therapist.
Me: True. I think I’ll pass though.