Corinne CrawfordMy flight to Thessaloniki left mid-morning, so I had time to sleep in a little, enjoy breakfast at the hostel, and make my way back to the airport. I ended up taking an expensive Bolt rather than risk the local bus system. There was an Airport Direct bus available, but after my previous experiences with the somewhat unpredictable schedules, I wasn’t willing to gamble on missing a flight.
The flight itself was quick, and before long I was descending over the sparkling Thermaic Gulf toward Thessaloniki, Greece’s second-largest city and the historic capital of Macedonia. Thessaloniki has been a crossroads of cultures for over two thousand years, shaped by Romans, Byzantines, Ottomans, and modern Greeks. I easily found the airport bus into town, a route that normally takes about 45 minutes depending on traffic.
Unfortunately, my arrival into Thessaloniki is memorable for a completely different reason.
I had my first full-blown panic attack in public.
I still have no idea what triggered it, though part of me wonders if I had an afib episode. The bus was extremely crowded, packed shoulder-to-shoulder with people and luggage, but crowded transportation isn’t exactly new to me. At one point I took a deep breath and suddenly felt my heart skip out of rhythm.
And then my brain immediately launched into its award-winning production of “Whatever you do, do not pass out in public”
My vision blurred, I nearly blacked out, and sweat began pouring down my face and head. My chest tightened, I felt like I couldn’t get enough air, and my heart took off like it was trying to catch a connecting flight without me. Somehow I managed not to pass out, but in that moment I was absolutely convinced something was very, very wrong.
The thought of getting off the bus wasn’t appealing either. If this one was packed, how would I even get on the next one? Besides, panic-brain had already informed me that I was simultaneously trapped, overheating, and inconveniencing everyone around me. I thought I could power through and just get to the city.
Several women nearby noticed something was wrong. One offered me water, another switched on a small electric fan and pointed it toward my face, and one kindly held onto my bag for me while I tried to keep myself together. A Greek Orthodox priest even offered me his seat. I couldn’t bring myself to take it. The poor man would have had to stand packed in with everyone else, and I didn’t want to be the miserable tourist whose travel itinerary included making a man of God give up his seat.
So I focused on breathing and simply tried to survive the ride.
After about 30 minutes, I had made it about three-quarters of the way into the city, but I could feel myself spiraling again and was really concerned that packed tightly onto that us, I as not going to be able to keep from passing out. I finally asked the woman holding my bag if she would help me get off at the next stop. At that point my goals had become extremely modest: remain conscious and locate a bench.
Thankfully, the stop happened to be beside Thessaloniki’s City Hall, where there was a long shaded concrete bench beneath some trees. I dropped my bags, sat down, and completely lost it. The panic surged back and I genuinely thought I might pass out.
Then one of those little travel miracles happened.
An elderly Greek woman walking by stopped and asked if I was okay.
Reader, I was not.
I told her I thought I was having a panic attack. She stood beside me, held my hand, checked my pulse, and calmly told me not to be afraid. She explained that her daughter had suffered panic attacks after a difficult divorce, so she understood what I was experiencing. At one point she squeezed a pressure point on my shoulder and told me she was a doctor.
Whether it was medical knowledge, motherly kindness, or simply human compassion, it helped.
I gradually started feeling more in control. After she left, I remained stretched out on the bench with my head resting on my backpack until my heart finally felt like it had settled back into a normal rhythm.
I wasn’t willing to risk another crowded bus or taxi, so I decided to walk the remaining 25 minutes to my apartment.
Not exactly the start to Thessaloniki I had imagined.
