It's no secret, I HATE to fly.
No, hate is not strong enough. In fact I don't think there is a word out there that fully encompasses how I feel about flying. My heart drops into the pit of my stomach faster than a hooker in the front seat of a rich man's car at the mere thought of it, and a general haze of nausea descends and refuses to lift until the trip is over, and I'm safely back on Terra Firma.
Normally I spend the weeks before a flight compulsively scanning safety records for each airline, running crash scenarios trough my head as I try to fall asleep, playing each one out so that I somehow survive. As the day of departure nears I contemplate the Amtrak schedules,weighing the extra cost of the ticket (almost double), the extra two or three days of travel I will have to add to my time off request, and ultimately decide flying is cheaper(how twisted is that?). I turn desperately to my 8 year old Toyota with 110K miles under her belt and know she would probably not take kindly to the 13 hour drive; add up the cost of a car rental, gas, and additional time off for travel time, and even driving is not as economical as flying. Dammit!
I have two, count em, two flights to Boston coming up between now and Christmas. The first one is Thursday. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't fighting a constant hum of just below the surface panic, but this time I'm not giving in to it. I have given up my daily "I hate to fly, why do I have to fly, I fucking don't want to fly" mantra. I haven't looked up any safety records, or watched any plane crash footage. I haven't even once logged onto the Amtrak website. Each night I compose grocery lists, blog ideas, and alternate endings to movies just to keep my mind clear of anything plane related. See? See how together I am? Trust me, this is together.
When I do start to panic I mentally pack my bottle of xanax,and try to focus on the destination rather than the trip. Thursday I'm going to visit my brother and sister-in-law in their new house in Rhode Island. It's also my nephew's second birthday, and I will get to be there to watch him open his present from his Auntie Shawnee. The second trip, coming up in December, is also to my brother's house in RI. Christmas with the entire family, three generations worth. Oh, to be sure there will be all manner of drama going on within the rooms of that very full house, but there will also be a lot of celebrating, and I will be armed with mighty wine glass. These trips are ultimately worth all the stupid phobic bull shit that comes before, these trips allow me to reconnect with my family, and to reconnect with who I am at a basic level.
So yeah, this is me, not flipping out. But just to be on the safe side, this Thursday, say around 1:20 EST, send buoyant thoughts my way. I'll be the white knuckled girl in seat 15C.
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