Fiction. Based on a True Dry Drunk Triggered.
By Mingjie Zhai
All journal entries are inspired by true events. Some of the characters, names, businesses, incidents, and certain locations and events have been fictionalized for dramatic purposes. Any similarity to the name, character or history of any person is entirely coincidental and unintentional.
You are feeling like a dry drunk today. You yell at the lady on the phone, the lady who represents the airline where you and Roxy would be boarding and flying from Rome to Telaviv. At first she states that Roxy can’t board unless she has a blind dog certification training ready at hand.
“Why would I get a blind dog training certificate if I’m not blind?!” you ask incredulously.
“Sorry, this is our company policy.”
“No, you’re lying to me. I have previously boarded this same airline, and I’ve had no problems getting through. I have papers, but they are not blind dog papers.”
“Sorry, but our policy has changed.”
“When did this change?” you ask irritably. “I just boarded less than 30 days ago. Why was I not notified of this policy change?”
“Please let me check your previous flight.”
You give her your credentials, and she finds you.
“Yes, it is showing that you boarded your dog in the previous flight, but it must have been a mistake on our part to have allowed you to board.”
“No, it’s not a mistake. Your information is a mistake. Where does it say that I can’t bring any other service dogs?”
“On our website.” She gives you the website name.
“I’m on your website. Where does it say exactly?”
“It’s on the website.”
“Where?” you ask. “I’ve looked it over many times. It doesn’t say. You’re a liar.”
“Ma’am if you’re going to speak to me this way, I will not serve you.”
“I want to speak to your manager.”
“Because you’re not serving me. You’re making it difficult and giving me bad information.”
Next thing another lady picks up.
“What’s the problem ma’am?”
“Your colleague is bullshitting me.”
“Ma’am we don’t appreciate this language of disrespect.”
“Fine, you’re colleague is lying to me,” you say. “There is nothing on the website that says that service dogs are only reserved for blind dogs.”
“Sorry ma’am, we make mistakes. She is only human. She is not perfect.”
And there it is.
You let go.
Fucking human beings.
A deeper part of you that hates human beings come out.
Lying, ignorant, stupid human beings.
The judgement comes on strong.
After you hang up, you realize they don’t even have any say in whether or not a dog goes through.
That’s right, you remind yourself. Last time, it was ultimately those who are boarding the passengers that decide.
The woman who was talking to you earlier is just completely misinformed—someone who did not pay attention, misheard, or was given bad information had met you that morning.
You ask the manager to take you to the survey at the end of the conversation.
You make sure to give her the lowest possible scores on all spectrums and hung up.
You feel a tinge of short term satisfaction, then as you begin heading towards the Vatican where the Pope was showing himself today, you feel guilt.
By the time you arrive at the gates with your Papal ticket, you miss the crux of his greeting and speech. You miss the meeting Pope Francesca because you were going back and forth in vain with the lady who gave you false information. Still, you attempt to go inside anyway. The last time they let Roxy in with her service dog vest, but this time, a lady tells the armed guards “no” even though two weeks ago, a similar lady told the armed guards yes. You think the negative feminine god is fucking with you today to prevent you from being present with the pope’s message. Or perhaps, it’s your own angry, judgemental, and critical energy that’s blocking you from accessing the message.
As you leave you think of how much energy and time you’ve wasted going back and forth with a lady who was obviously misinformed. Had you said, thanks for your information, hung up and gotten ready, you would have shifted the energy dynamic, and perhaps would have even been able to be on time for the Pope’s message.
You ask some American tourists who were leaving St. Peter’s Square.
“What did the Pope say today?”
“It’s something about getting along together. It was a St. Luke message.”
Restaurant “marketers” are standing outside the restaurant greeting people to come and you inquire about the seafood pasta—pasta with black shelled oysters. You ask the marketing man if this was part of the deal. He says yes so you think of throwing away your original healthy juice plan for this carb-filled luxury meal.
When the lady matron of the restaurant comes to take your order you realize the drinks don’t include cappuccino, which you are now officially addicted to, so this makes a difference for you. You have water in the bag, so their special deal isn’t so special anymore.
You don’t even drink coke.
Then, you find out that the pasta special doesn’t include the seafood pasta.
The screen above is playing a music video of a Trump look-a-like and a kid who is frustrated and neglected. The kid could be Trump’s nine-year-old nephew or child is building walls with blocks.
You roll your eyes.
At the end of this music video, it shows Trump and Ivanka look-a-likes dancing on the floor of the Oval Office that says, “damaging children will damage our future.”
You think what a crock of shit.
It’s the parents who are damaging their own kids and shifting the blame on some figurehead the way the parents blame their children’s misbehavior on “the system” of education (the teachers, the admin, the government, the culture)…anything and everything except for the one thing that really makes the difference in their child’s upbringing…the parents themselves.
You tell the lady matron of the restaurant that you don’t want anything here.
You’re a bit irritated that the marketer did not give you the correct information. You now have to make the awkward interaction with the lady matron about how you made a mistake sitting down here and now you have to leave. Leaving a restaurant after sitting with the menu is pretty tough to do because there is some unspoken social rule that once you sit with the menu you are expected to order.
It seems the negative feminine is strong today.
The Vatican Bookstore
You went to a bookstore near St. Peter’s Square, and the book buyer there said no on hosting The Love Story book at their bookshop even though it’s probably going to really help the folks who are studying to become priests.
They have shadows unintegrated, wounds still unprocessed, and perhaps, you think, having a focus on creative expression could help them.
The book buyer there suggests you go to the bookstore near the Vatican Museum where a bunch of tourists usually frequent. Here, she explains, are mainly for those studying to become priests.
You don’t judge her.
You’re learning your lessons from the three incidents this morning already.
You walk to your regular sushi spot. The lady boss there said that they won’t be open until an hour and a half later.
You arrive at a nice cafe that produces organize healthy juices.
That’s right, you told yourself that you would take care of you today.
Healthy, organic juices.
No more pasta, no more refined sugar from the carbs.
You order a cappuccino and a few moments later a big fruit fly went inside of it.
You bring it to the waiter and he makes you a new one, but this one is tepid.
You are irritated but grateful you found a breakfast bar that has air conditioning, playing jazz music, and makes healthy organic juices, with a sign that says “napkins are made of Trees.”
God, I’m so fucking irritated right now. I’m sorry for blowing up at the girl on the other end of customer service for the airline. I accused her of lying and accused the manager of bullshitting me, and perhaps I’m projecting…perhaps I am no longer disabled…you healed me the way I saw the man at the spoken word slam testify that his autism is healed through you. I feel like a fraud. Truth be told, you have healed me from the extremes of my bipolarity…that and chemical dependency to regulate my emotions are being broken…( except for Caffeine and maybe the fly in that first cup is a sign) …anyhoo…God, I know you can turn annoyance, irritation, and mishap into all good things through Christ Jesus.
You get an email reply back from the Vatican, and it translates to:
“Very well, I see that he had done a good preliminary research.
Waiting for the documentation useful for your admission, I offer you my cordial greeting,”
You are getting ready to check into another hotel. Last night the heat was so suffocating that Roxy’s breathing was exacerbated, and you were developing a dangerous headache that you suspected could be warning signs of a stroke. It is that hot.
You also have a resentment that this Airbnb place has charged you almost a thousand for the month without air conditioning, a shared bathroom, and no kitchen…breakfast is really bad…all enriched carbs and yada yada…you can hear your mind complaining…if this is the deal then there is an endless amount of things to complain about.
Shift your consciousness…
Quantum physics remember?
You pull 100 Euros from the Postmatic ATM that doesn’t charge you an arm and a leg like the Eurobank ATM does. You think for the difference in charge fee, you can afford to drop 2 Euros inside the hat of the man with two big boils on his forehead, laying by the entrance to St. Peter’s square. The next beggar who had no right arm you skip and the man who is dirty and soiled you also skip.
There are a lot of tourists today, along with pastor, nuns, and priests because today is the day the Pope’s presence is made known at St. Peter’s Square, right in front of St. Peter’s Basilica.
The previous conversation that morning replays:
“We are human. We are imperfect. She was just trying to help you.”
And then your judgement, like a reflex, comes swinging:
“She was not trying to help me because if she actually did her job, she would be helping me find a solution not lying to me like Roxy needs a training certificate for blind people even though my disability is not blindness.”
That’s your judgement for today: stupid people.
Last week, an Irishmen from Belfast tells you that he liked your share about how judgement doesn’t benefit anybody one bit.
You had responded by saying, “I need to take my own advice.”
You call your mom at 1 in the morning, and the first thing she asks you is why you are not asleep.
“It’s too hot, and I have a headache. They don’t have air conditioning. I need to go to a hotel that does have ac.”
She sends you $300, no arguments. And you book a 3 star hotel with a rooftop terrace and breakfast next to the Spanish Steps. Then you check your flight and realize you are actually leaving at 1 in the morning to check in at 3 in the morning for your flight at 5 in the morning to Israel 🇮🇱 Tel Aviv.
They use Shekels.
You wonder if Shekels work in Palestine since you’ll be based there.
The CFO of the organization you run is Muslim and tells you the Arabs are super friendly— “When you are their guest, if you want something, they’ll give it.”
You pack the book titled the Biography of Jerusalem that you had purchased in Croatia at the Algebra bookstore.
You get the welcome email from the person who vets people who want to research at the Vatican Library. You were able to get in through the fact that you are a published author running a not-for-profit with a teaching credential and a masters degree. More importantly, you have a specific agenda—to research Paul.
You give some change to the man with the feet problem, then the man who plays So in Love on the accordion at the subway tunnel, then some change to the woman with the baby.
You figure you’ll skip lunch since you ate a big breakfast (all you can eat and drink for 7 Euros) and the water is ever flowing and free in Rome.
That’s how you roll.
You visit St. Paul’s within the Walls…the first time actually inside the church instead of the basement.
As soon as you walk inside the organ begins to play. It is a woman rehearsing. You go to the right pew and kneel.
Thank you 🙏 Paul for guiding me along the way with Jesus in my heart. I know it’s always 3 wise men, and I know you are one of the three. Yet I know it is Jesus who made this all possible.
Thank you for all the intercessory prayers and for acting as my good attorney.
You remember first noticing St. Paul when there was a St. Paul’s church around your parent’s neighborhood.
This morning Chelsea Smith (Judah Smith’s Wife) on your Churchome App preached on Paul and how he was one of the greatest apostles of the New Testament. She mentions the mystery of love…God’s ways and God’s will may be different than ours, and when we trust God…miracles happen…even if we may never recognize these miracles in our lifetime.
She brings up the Story of Leah, a woman who was born fated to be hated, yet God gave her grace through her ability to bring forth children. Down her bloodline, Jesus was born.
You know you’ve been hated.
All your exes hate you because you’ve chosen exes who were mentally insane in some way, shape, or form, and then you tried to control, manipulate, and impose your will on their behavior thinking you could play God and make men your god.
All you can do is accept their hatred of you.
All you can do is accept that you are both the victim and the perpetrator in this complicated web.
All you can do is accept that you played a part in rejecting them.
All you can do is accept that there is a deeper part of you that hates them too like the way you hated the airline customer service lady this morning who tried to “help you.”
Perhaps you had just received a taste of your own medicine.
You tell men you are helping them when you are actually hurting them.
Just like all the staff at these so called mental health institutions.
They claim help but they inadvertently hurt.
Or at least don’t hurt someone and call it help.
Don’t hate on someone and call it love.
And that is perhaps a sudden fit of anger seized you this morning—you recognize this hypocrisy very well.
Perhaps you were just like the customer service lady —you played a big role in misinformation to the men you purportedly exclaimed that you were helping.
Perhaps, it’s now time for you to let go and let God handle the things. He can do a way better job than you. After all, He’s the creator.
Your job Is to maintain your spiritual program.
Clean your side of the street, apologize for the things you’ve done wrong, and forgive those who have harmed you.
You forgave the woman who tried to hurt you but called it “assisting.”
You forgive yourself for being petty and vengeful by giving her two low scores at the end of the phone conversation.
You know it so well.
You’ve been swimming in it for so long.
At least you can now name the problem.
Before you were baffled and stung by it.
Now you can at least call it out:
Using victimhood as a manipulation ploy for a power play.
It hits you.
Perhaps you are the liar.
Perhaps, you are no longer disabled.
Perhaps, you are no longer bipolar because Jesus healed you.
Mother thinks your faith in Jesus is a mental illness.
Is it a surprise that right now China’s “education camps” have rounded up huge populations of Muslims to “take out the parasite” of religion?
As long as people do all things your way, then utopia will be achieved.
That’s the insanity of the communist party.
That’s how you’ve been operating with all your exes.
If they all only thought the way you thought and did what you told them to do, then they wouldn’t have all those problems. They are so lucky to have met you. You’re such a god-martyre.
You cringe at the thought of all the damages you’ve actually done —maybe not always directly but indirectly as well.
You may never know until when you get to heaven and even then you may not know all the wrongs you’ve done since forgiving and grace means taking those memories and washing it away into oblivion in the sea of forgetfulness.
So maybe those tracks will not replay when you are before the heavenly courts, in front of the gates to heaven, to take an inventory of all that you’ve done and not done.
Forgive and you shall be forgiven.
Judge and you shall be judged by the same measure.
Tis the law of heaven.
Did you forgive the lady?
No, you punished her with two low scores.
Didn’t God forgive you for your two low scores?
Two suicide attempts remember?
What You Discovered Inside the Ancient Texts of the Vatican Library
When Jesus was in Hell
There was a conversation between Hades (death) and Satan in Hell.
“Why did you tell the Jews that Jesus is of Beelzebub?!”
“Why not? Now Jesus will be here with us, under our dominion.”
“Fool! Did you not see how Lazarus came out of me like an eagle flying back to life? If this Jesus has the power to defy my powers, what makes you think we can contain him here in Hell?”
Open the gates!
A powerful command rings, lighting up all corners of darkness in hell.
Inside the devil’s lair are the prisoners, men who are all the sons of God—from the first Adam to Abraham to all the saints onward. In a blink of an eye, they were all gathered before the Good Shepherd, Jesus of Nazareth, and in the second blink, they are at the gates of heaven.
The gates of heaven opens and what do you know?! A thief greets all the saints welcome! One saint remarks, “Such are the mysterious ways of God!”
The first shall go last and the last shall go first.
I Love California
You leave the Vatican Library, amazed, refreshed, soul elevated in hope—so much hope. You are walking on the sidewalk in between an Irish family ahead of you and a pair of Chinese sisters behind you speaking in Mandarin Chinese. You understand Mandarin.
One of the girls behind you says, “ I Love California.”
You think of Rylie and blush.
It was your friend who is betrothed to the woman, but he is charmed and draws near to you. He is ready to abandon his commitment to his woman for a tryst with you. You find his piece small. So he begins to finger you, and in the middle of this act, and you stop and call to Jesus for help.
You hear sounds, commotion, from above, and immediately, the lust daemon stronghold is broken, and you are freed from this spell. You saw tinges of royal blue and purple glow illuminating this dream.