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Our Relationship to Anger Affects our Sensual Pleasure

This week I was a woman who was ANGRY.

I was at Dallas Fort Worth airport in transit from NYC. As I was on the tram to take me to a different terminal, the tram broke down. Speakers inaudible, I quickly stepped out to find someone to tell me how to get to the other terminal. Maps were no help, and I was going to miss my flight if I didn't find out how to get there FAST. I approached a man who worked on staff explaining the situation I was in + asking for help on how to get to the other terminal. "Was there a connecting walking path?" I don't know. "Was there someone could talk to?" Nope, I'm it. "Do you work for the airport?" Yes. "What can I do?" The only thing I can suggest is go outside, take a bus to another terminal and go back through the security again. "There's got to be another way. Is there a manager I can speak with?" Nope.

At this point, I was feeling frantic and angry. I took a deep breath + exhaled a with a loud sound to feel the anger, but not lash out. "This is ridiculous" I muttered as I lugged my bags away to find help.

Bitch! he said out loud.