I Took the Xanax. I Took the Flight.

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I did not want to get on that plane.

To be fair, I never want to get on a plane. That’s not new information for anyone who’s been reading along here. But this wasn’t a carefully planned solo adventure I’d been daydreaming about for months — it wasn’t like the solo trip to Amsterdam I’ve been planning since last fall. This was a work trip, and the flights were non-negotiable. So I did what I’ve learned to do: I took the Xanax, I took a breath, and I got on the plane.

The Flight There

The anxiety didn’t wait for the airport. It started a couple of days out — that low hum of dread that builds quietly while you’re still at home, still perfectly safe, still doing completely normal things. By the morning of the flight it was loud. It was bad, honestly. But I was flying with colleagues, which meant I was also performing a version of myself that had it together. I smiled. I made conversation. I told myself what I always tell myself: you just have to do it. Anxiety is controllable. You’ve done this before.

I’d treated myself to a new hard-sided Samsonite checked bag from Kohl’s and a set of packing cubes for the trip — partly to stay organized, partly as practice. With Amsterdam on the horizon, I’ve been thinking about ways to reduce the stress I can actually control, since the flying anxiety isn’t going anywhere on its own. A well-packed bag is one less thing to worry about. I prefer a soft-sided carry-on when I can manage it — easier to wrestle into an overhead bin — but for a checked bag, hard-sided all the way.

I took the Xanax. We boarded. The plane took off and hit some turbulence and I sat there, medicated and determined, and for the most part — I was fine. Not relaxed. Not comfortable. But fine. Which, for me, counts.

We landed at Reagan National around three in the afternoon, checked into the Hilton Garden Inn downtown, and just like that, I was in Washington, DC on a Saturday in June with the rest of the week ahead of me.

The Things I Noticed

I wasn’t there to sightsee, technically. I had meetings to attend, people to see, work to do. That unfun part of the trip I’ll keep to myself.

But Washington in June has a lot to offer if you’re paying attention.

It started at CityCenterDC, where I stumbled into A Wild Race Against Time — an outdoor exhibit by international artists Gillie and Marc featuring monumental bronze sculptures of hybrid animal figures moving through the city like they own it. The one that caught my attention was an octopus on roller skates. I stood there for a moment, a woman fresh off an anxiety-inducing flight with a full week of meetings ahead of her, completely charmed by a bronze octopus mid-stride on eight little wheels.

Sunday evening brought Georgetown for the first time. The streets were busy but not rushed. Dinner at Filomena Ristorante was exactly as good as everyone says. The place was packed and loud and warm and the food was so good it made the week feel like it was already worth it.

There was a moment mid-week — squeezed between morning meetings and lunch — when a handful of us stopped into Maman for coffee and the most perfect chocolate chip cookies I’ve had in recent memory. Sometimes a really good cookie is exactly the reset you need.

And then there was Doris Kearns Goodwin. I got to sit in a room and listen to her speak about leadership and legacy, and I walked out of there feeling something I hadn’t quite expected to feel in the middle of a work week in a city that had been feeling a little heavy: hope. She has a way of reminding you that history is made by people who showed up anyway.

Tuesday evening a group of us ended up in Dupont Circle — drinks on the patio at The Commodore first, where we sat outside and watched the neighborhood go by. Then dinner at Annie’s Paramount Steakhouse, which has been a DC institution since 1948 and a longtime anchor of the LGBTQ+ community in Dupont Circle. It was one of our colleagues’ recommendation — he knew the place well — and it was one of the best evenings of the trip. Nine of us around the table, laughing and talking and working our way through food and desserts that were both excellent, with a waiter who made it all even more fun. Above us, a rainbow of light spilled down from the ceiling in colors so saturated they seemed to push back against everything outside. It was Pride month.

Wednesday took us to Capitol Hill. We walked the halls of the Senate building — the House wasn’t in session, but the Senate was — and a colleague took a photo of me mid-stride down one of those corridors that is grander and quieter than you expect.

The Flight Home

Thursday morning. Eight AM flight. St. Louis by noon.

There was still a little anxiety before boarding — there always is. But it wasn’t the days-long siege it had been before the first flight. I think it was two things: the medication, yes, but also the simple fact that I had just flown five days earlier and landed in one piece. My nervous system had recent evidence. The catastrophe hadn’t happened. And somehow that made the second flight feel, if not easy, then at least like something I already knew I could survive.

I wrote a little about what it took to book that first flight to Amsterdam — the false starts, the closed browser tabs, the talking myself into and out of it a dozen times. This trip felt like a reminder that the only way through is through. I’m not a beach chair person, and apparently I’m not a person who stays home just because flying is hard. I’m going to remember that going into September.

If You’re Heading to DC

• Georgetown: Worth an evening. Walk the streets, find a shop you didn’t expect, and eat at Filomena Ristorante if you can get a table.
• Maman: Multiple locations around DC. Go for their pastries and more importantly, their chocolate chip cookies. You’ll understand.
• Dupont Circle in June: The crosswalks are painted in Pride colors and the neighborhood is warm and welcoming in a way that feels intentional. Annie’s Paramount Steakhouse for dinner. The Commodore for drinks on the patio first, if you can.
• The Capitol area: Public tours are available through your member of Congress’s office. The hallways are worth seeing in person.
• What I packed with: My new Samsonite luggage and packing cubes from Amazon made the whole thing considerably more organized than I deserve credit for.
• Flying anxiety: I’m not a doctor and this isn’t medical advice, but talking to your doctor about options before a flight you’re dreading is something I wish I’d done years earlier than I did. It doesn’t make the fear disappear. It just makes it manageable.

Ten weeks. I’m going to Amsterdam.

— Jen