My husband is always positive.

I inherited my mother’s superstitious, age old philosophy…expect the worst and perhaps you will be pleasantly surprised.

I have been pushing back on myself lately trying to find a happy medium.

I woke up Sunday at 4am for a 4:45 pick up heading to JFK.

Flying is not my activity of choice…I never bother anyone except my daughter and overall, my goal is to suffer silently.

Sunday, I decided to be absolutely positive.

I took a hit of CBD.

I was organized, wearing new underwear and leaving behind an immaculate house (just in case).

If survival was in the cards I always want to come home to a clean house…thus, my logic has a two- pronged strategy.

The driver was on time and arrived in a new SUV.

We happily chatted, learning that he had moved to  America 6 years ago.

He was accelerating onto the Grand Central Parkway and all of a sudden we came to an abrupt stop, brakes screeching.

I leaned forward in the darkness to see the cause and then we were violently rear ended.

Pain burst through my head, shoulders and back.

The driver pulled over on the shoulder of the highway.

Now we felt injured and exposed.

Joy…isn’t this a precarious position to be in…haphazardly parked on a dark highway.

The other driver had been speeding and apparently engaged with his cell.

Both drivers were foreign and wanted to call the police.

In fact, a cop car drove past us and kept going.

We tried to tell them that the police do not respond to fender benders anymore.

Coincidentally, NY 1 had recently featured  the city’s chief of police who said they no longer had the time or the manpower to respond to car accidents unless there were severe injuries or fatalities.

At this point, the flight departed in 60 minutes and we were hanging on the side of the highway.

After 20 minutes, we convinced them that they just needed to share insurance info, damage photos, call the insurance company and move on.

Finally we drove away albeit slowly.

We arrived at JFK with very limited time to make the plane.

Entering the terminal, there were literally 500 people in line at security.

Freaking out was an option and thankfully, we realized that this was not the TSA line.

We made the flight.

Feeling sore and a bit traumatized I really enjoyed the nonstop turbulence on the plane…my body was craving a wee bit more whiplash.

Hours later, after a drive by at Urgent Care, we crashed on the beach with a good book and a somewhat positive attitude.

There was definitely a margarita in our immediate future.

*photo: Pinterest