your worst thoughts don’t make you a bad person

I hope my husband pukes while I hold his hand.

I love turbulence on planes. It’s like a warm hug from a friend who loves you so much they shake you around in their arms. I’ll close my eyes and pretend it’s a space chase and each bump is us bouncing off an asteroid, a thrilling distraction from the monotony of flying.

Cameron, my seat partner and partner in all other parts of life, hates turbulence. He actually gets queasy and has a 25% chance of vomiting on the flight. Once, a flight attendant offered to wheelchair him out of the bathroom. When the plane starts to bump, I feel sorry for him as I look at his increasingly pale face.

Despite that, I still intensely hope that the plane ride gets turbulent. The ping of the seatbelt sign and the frantic pilot’s announcement to buckle up fills me with a pleasant swooping sensation in my stomach and a “hell yeah” in my head. Cameron’s ride from hell doesn’t take away from that.

I don’t think this makes me a bad person. If I had the power to turn off plane turbulence, I would, but thankfully I can’t.

The first time Trump won in 2016, I cried on the phone to my dad because I felt like it was his fault, although my mother told me they’d both voted Democrat for the first time ever. The second time Trump won, my dad told me he had voted for Trump this time. I didn’t respond, but the look on my face must’ve been scathing enough to compel him to say, “My vote didn’t matter - I voted in New Jersey.”

Later that night, I asked my Dad, “Why are you looking at the news?” as he pulled up his iPad. We were on vacation after all.

“I need to see what is going to affect the Korean Won. It affects my trades.”

So he did care about the economy.

“Well, tariffs inflating the American dollar isn’t going to help with appreciating the Korean Won,” I said.

He paused before speaking.

“That’s true.. but the thing with tariffs is, we do need to fix the national debt.”

Time to strike.

“By introducing unpredictability and higher sourcing costs to American businesses? Which would affect their exports? Which is the main way to balance out the national debt?” I spoke in staccato.

He didn’t say anything in response, which was a really big deal in arguing with him. It meant you won. And to win an argument in our household meant you were the smartest (aka the best) person there, at least until the next argument.

Now, every time Trump causes chaos to American business, I feel a little happy knowing that at least it’ll stress my dad out.

I still wouldn’t vote for Trump, though.

That’s the part that really gets me and is what I remind myself every time I have a bad thought. Every time I think, “Jesus Christ, this person has no idea what they’re doing,” or, “I hate paying taxes and I wish I could keep all my money and let the public school system burn,” I think how I would still smile at the slow person or vote to increase budgets.

It’s like every time a friend’s lame boyfriend does a shitty thing and gets himself one step closer to termination while she cries. Or how I’ve seen someone drop some cash and I’ll pick it up and call out for them to notice. Or when my friend suggests we “just walk in” to an overpriced restaurant on a Friday night. What does hope matter?

Cameron and I are flying again. I hope one thing but I control what I can. I squeeze Cameron’s hand, smile, and close my eyes so I can picture myself escaping aliens and ignore his nauseated expression.