RAD RERUN -- Piss & Vinegar

0:01 To the restless, the insomniacs, the stressed out, the overwork the doom scrollers, the worried, and the board. This is for you. Good writing is meant to make you think. This is the opposite. Short, funny, and unfortunately true stories that have mostly to do with nothing to help you turn off your brain and turn on your ram. All names have been changed to protect the guilty. These are anxiety addicts bedtime stories.

0:45 There was some bad news, and how did Harley deal with bad news? Maybe differently than most of us. See, Harley grew up in a home with crystals and incense. Her mother, Wanda, was responsible for this. Wanda, with her long braids and collection of brightly colored moomoos, raised her daughter to dance in the woods and talked to butterflies. She was impulsive and creative, an artist who read tarot cards, and was, as she would so often say, quote unquote, tuned into good news. It's easy to say that Harley's childhood shaped her into an adult with a slightly different understanding of the world than many of her peers. So when Harley hung up with her doctor and a not great medical diagnosis, our thirty year old heroine immediately logged on to Delta's website and booked herself a solo trip to Europe. She'd been dreaming of visiting the mountains of Ireland, and this prognosis was clearly the universe's way of telling her not to procrastinate her adventures. She was raised with a lot of confidence in her decisions and this this was no exception. That was the correct move, said Wanda, who had shown up within minutes of her daughter's phone call holding a basketful of herbs and tinctures and a rolled up mat covered in plastic spikes. That was good for something. She pulled out one amberglassed bottle after another,

2:20 lining them up on the kitchen counter. These were the bottles that had cured Harley of everything from bronchitis to menstrual cramps over the years. Some people thought Wanda was crazy, but not her patience. You'll take six drops of this in the morning and again in the afternoon. Don't take it before you go to bed, because you'll have dreams that you aren't ready for. She stopped her homemade pharmaceutical regiment explanation to empty her arms and grab her only daughter by the shoulders. She looked into Harley's gray eyes and vocalized a prophecy that would indeed be correct. You, my darling, my primrose, my phoenix, You're gonna be just fine.

3:06 Harley felt her eyes well with tears. It wasn't that her mother's tarot cards always told the truth. It was that she knew, deep down where we know things without explanation, that her mother was right. She fell into the arms of the pechually smelling woman and sobbed until she ran out of tears. That afternoon, her mother made her tea and soup and massage something absolutely foul smelling on the bottoms of her feet. Harley reacted, Mom, that itches. What's the base? Wanda was a lot of things, but a fan of people critiquing her tinctures was not one of them.

3:46 It's highly distilled. Harley winced from the realization and jumped up from the sofa as if it were on fire. Honey, I tested it. You should be fine, mom. Vinegar Harley ran to the tub to soak her feet in water. She'd been allergic all her life. This was not something that Wanda had easily accepted. Vinegar was a big part of natural healing and Wanda had yet to find the perfect substitute. As Harley sat on the cold porcelain edge of her bathtub, her feet itching in the water, she allowed herself to daydream about her trip. She was going to hike through the Dolomites and eat all the pasta Italy had to offer. She was going to stop in France, Spain, and Portugal. As she dried her feet, she shook her head, pulling up her shirt to reveal the medical port on the side of her stomach. This is how she would kill the cancer. It was also how she would administer the benadryl to stop the reaction. Harley said goodbye to her mother and got into bed as the medicine began to make her woozy. There was an upside to the ivy port. Meds hit fast. The daffhen hydromine induced nap was not the world's worst idea. Harley awoke the next morning feeling refreshed and energized. Maybe that's the key to health, an eighteen hour sleep. The weeks leading up to her big trip became a blur of work in naps, medicine and syringes from the doctor, and herbal remedies and some inventive packaging from Wanda, who brought extras as she picked

5:19 up her daughter on the way to the airport. It was either Harley's impressive medical team or Wanda's tinctures, or an inexplicable combination of both, but Harley felt great. Her doctors hadn't been sure about the trip, but her mother had and gave her daughter everything she could concoct to keep her immune system and her spirits strong. As Wanda pulled her daughter in for a deep hug before pulling out of the delta unloading zone, she looked her daughter square in the face and said, in a voice that emerged from somewhere deep and primal, you will meet your future husband on this plane. Harley jump back, as if she'd felt the shock of a nearby explosion. What my husband?

6:06 Harley had been so deeply focused on her health, her healing, and her plans for this epic adventure, that romance had been the furthest thing from her mind. In fact, she'd sort of forgotten about men in general. But she knew her mother, and she knew her mother had seen something. Checking in for the flight. Walking through the airport, approaching the security line, you would be very, very wrong if you thought that Harley could think of anything else but the imminent encounter with the man who she would prophetically marry. It was the most welcome distraction from the medical situation that had hijacked her life for the last three months. And maybe that was the point of Wanda's prediction, or maybe it was real. It was impossible not to make eye contact with every male between the ages of thirty and forty in the airport. Harley didn't even mind when they caught her staring, because she was certain, but at that moment, would make an entertaining story for their future children.

7:05 Sitting in her blue and red seat, she eyed every male passenger who stepped onto flight seventeen eighty one with the critical eye of a surgeon or a cannibal, depending on your perspective. It was bananas. It felt like every man who walked through the bowing seven forty seven was an attractive dude in her age range. One passed and then another. Each time a man walked by her row, Harley felt her heart sink a little lower. The plane slowly filled up, with people putting their luggage in the overhead compartments and settling in for the flight. Harley was just about to lose hope when she locked eyes with brad Pit. Okay, it wasn't brad Pit, but it might as well have been. The chisel jawlined, strong arms and boyish charm would have knocked her off her feet if she wasn't already sitting down. This was not what Harley was expecting. As she tried to close her mouth and avert her eyes from the hottest stranger she'd ever seen in the flesh, her gaze wandered to the man behind him.

8:10 It was Diego Luna. Okay, it wasn't Diego Luna, but it might as well have been with his olive skin, dark hair, and smoldering eyes. Harley swears that she felt drool escape from the corner of her mouth. There are two empty seats in my row, she thought, Holy fucking shit, I have two husbands. This was the happiest thought that Harley had ever had in her life. In fact, she was so overtaken by the dopamine rush that took a bit of time for her brain to register that the two gorgeous movie star looking men had taken the seats in front of her and were now kissing these were not Harley's new husbands. Somehow she felt rejected, and she was well aware that this was ridiculous. You have to keep the faith, Harley told herself as her eyes welled with uninvited tears. But the pity party was interrupted by a deep, gravelly voice like Sam Elliott smoking a cigar on a yacht. You're so lucky to have a row to yourself. Harley looked up through a blurry screen of her watery eyes, and there he was. Jason Momoa. Okay, it was not Jason Momoa, but it could have been.

9:29 How did she not notice the extremely well muscled hunk with his long hair messily wound into the perfect buns, sitting across the aisle. Damn it, She'd been so focused on taking Wanda's words literally that she'd only paid attention to the seats next to her. This still counted across the one foot aisle. Counted. Oh how Wanda knew how to call it? Talk to him, make conversation, she told herself. But as is so often the case when one is experience the force of unexpected love at first sight, Harley's words were not exactly that well thought out. I'm supposed to meet my future husband on this flight, she blurted out.

10:12 The moment, however, was not filled with slow romantic music, the stopping of time, or a wind machine. Nope, it was interrupted by the blonde woman sitting next to Jason Momoa, who clasped her hand over his her wedding ring reflecting the overhead light, she cleared her throat. Harley pretended to be deeply engrossed in the emergency manual, avoiding all eye contact with the couple for the remainder of the uneventful flight. Eight and a half hours later, throwing her hiking backpack onto the cheap hotel bedspread, Harley called her mother before she even took off her shoes or washed her hands from the long trip. Mom it didn't happen. Wanda first insisted on asking her daughter if she remembered to take this med and that cleaner port drink water, et cetera, et cetera. Yes, Harley had, but that's not why she was calling. She wasn't interested in talking to Wanda. She wanted to talk to Wanda's vision. It will be on the return flight. I swear I know that it will happen, And Harley believed her. Okay, The trip was a magical whirlwind of all the wonderful things that Harley had dreamed were possible. The hikes and clean air felt like they somehow cleansed her soul. The food was more delicious than she even knew that food could be. She felt healthier than she had in months. She was feeling strong and optimistic.

11:37 The two weeks passed with only the occasional thought of the plane ride home. In fact, she had almost let Mama Wanda's prediction disappear completely from her consciousness. Truly, it wasn't until Harley settled onto her pleather seat at the gate that she remembered her mother's words, because there he was Oscar Isaac, sitting next to the check in desk. Okay, it wasn't Oscar Isaac, but it was, by any stretch of the imagination, the most attractive man that Harley had ever seen in her entire life, including the gay couple and the married dude from the previous flight. And he looked at her, like really looked at her. Harley panicked.

12:18 She tried to calm herself. I'm gonna go to the bathroom, I'm gonna freshen up. She let her long eyelashes drift away from his gaze and walked over to the women's room. It's happening, It's really really happening, she thought. The flutter in her stomach made her port feel tight. The last minute public bathroom glow up is a ritual familiar to so many women. What's the best that you can do with a lukewarm automatic sink, scratchy paper towels, and insulting fluorescent lighting. The best is what Harley pulled off. First, She emptied her bladder, applying a little lip gloss and mascara while still sitting right there on the toilet. Harley walked out of the women's room in the Barcelona airport, ready to meet the man whom her mother predicted would turn out to be her soulmate. With a newfound sense of confidence, she strutted over to the man, sat down in the neighboring seat, and introduced herself. I'm Peter, said Peter.

13:18 He was even better looking close up. The conversation was immediately on fire, like a match and a pile of dry timber. It was as if they'd known each other for years. Harley's head swirled. This was it, This was every Disney movie rom com Jane Austen romance that Harley had forced herself to believe would never happen. But it was in fact happening, and so was something else. It was right when Peter was describing his dreams that Harley began to shift uncomfortably in her pleather seat. Something was itching, something was burning. Something felt like molten lava was creeping up her backside and burning through her skin with the force of toxic, bubbling acid. It was her ass. Her ass was on fire. Excusing herself from the conversation with her future husband with an ounce of grace was a feat of olympic proportion. But Harley was a fighter. She dashed back into the women's room where she had so hastily become this confident version of herself only twenty minutes before, and locked herself in the forestall. Only now noticing the janitorial staff cleaning the lavatory, she twisted her body like a seasoned yogi to take a look at what the hell was going on in her backside. It was a sight that she hopes she will one day forget, because there were welts, huge, angry, red raised welts covering her butt,

14:53 cheeks and the tops of her thighs. She swears that they grew larger just while she was looking at them, and that's when Harley noticed the smell. It was the unmistakable odor of a very specific cleaning product, vinegar. The toilet seats were cleaned with vinegar. This seat that she'd been sitting on, applying her makeup on, maintaining prolonged contact with a few drops of tincture on her feet were uncomfortable enough. This was a lot more. In panic mode, she pulled the benadryl out of her travel bag and injected it directly into the port. It would take twenty minutes to work. Hopefully by then she'd be in her plane seat. This was going to be a perfectly miserable flight experience. What's wrong, Peter asked as she made her way back to the gate, dashing to the front of the line as the flight attendant called out the boarding lineup.

15:52 I can't I Harley had no words. She tried to focus on her breathing foot, one foot in front of the other and constant and get into her seat. She heard Peter calling out to her on the jet bridge and tried to keep her head down, pretending she couldn't hear him through the chatter of the other passengers. The problem was the jet bridge was now spinning and bouncing up and down. No wait, it wasn't. It was the benadryl kicking in the benadryll that, in her panic and haste, Harley might not have bothered to measure one foot in front of the other. She counted her exhales inhales, and after what seemed like a college semester, she fell into her plane seat in a crumpled mess. We will blame the benadryl as the reason why Harley didn't notice that Peter was soon sitting next to her With the timing of a broken clock. Harley's body managed to wait until he was buckled in and smiling to break down into a fit of sobs that no adult should ever have to experience in public. The tears poured out her eyes, making her feel like Alice in Wonderland. Peter clearly had no idea how to handle this. He looked away from her and scribbled wrong answers into his crossword puzzle. Honey.

17:13 Harley shook her head, trying to force her eyes to focus on the blonde blob of the human standing in front of her. It was the flight attendant. Are you okay? There were too many meds in her system to lie right there in seat fourteen A. Harley poured her heart out to the stewardess, describing the rash, the welts, the burning sensation with animalistic intensity, and yes, of course Peter heard all of this, he was sitting right there. The flight attendant's face was aghast with horror. Come with me. Her voice was stern but parental. She helped Harley up and guided her to the front of the plane and pointed to an empty first class seat sit Not sure of what was happening, harlely obliged. Moments later, the blonde blob returned with a large ice pack, a blanket, and a glass of champagne. The last thought Harley had before she passed out was looking at her seat mate, a red faced man in his seventies, and falling into tears.

18:19 Before she collapsed into a fitful sleep, Harley woke to the sound of the plane landing, the feeling of dry drool pulling her skin from her chin to her neck, and the metallic taste of defeat. In her mouth. As Harley tried to piece together her surroundings and gather her belongings, she paid no attention to the line of passengers deboarding the plane. A hand at the end of a suit jacket handed her a Delta napkin. It had a phone number written on it in blue pen. It took Harley way too long to figure out that this was Peter. Now we are sorry to say that they didn't end up getting made, but they did date for a year of fun. Wanda swears that she just misread the vision, and Harley posted this story as a public thank you to the flight attendant on Delta because Harley isn't sure if she believes in fortune telling or Wanda's prophecies, but now, because of the flight attendant, she sure shit believes in angels, sweet dreams. Thank you for listening. The story was written and recorded by me Joe, edited by Morgan, and the music is Sovereign by Kevin McLeod. As always, you can send us your stories on social media or our website.

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