In less than five hours, I will be on an airplane. That plane is flying to
I am excited to be in
However, I am not excited about the journey.
I hate flying.
More than anyone I know. I have felt sick all morning, knowing that I have to get on an airplane.
For years, I have had nightmares about plane crashes, fire balls, falling out of a broken plane, being on the ground while burning corpses rain on me.
I know that this is mostly irrational. That flying is much safer than driving on the 405 (or anywhere in LA, really), and that I have a greater chance of being struck by lightning. Although the architect has been struck by lightning, so when I fly with him, I am both reassured by his presence and scared shitless that since he’s already done the lightning thing, he’s going to be in a plane crash and he’s on the same plane as me!
I fly 3-4 times a year. Enough that this flight to
Also, every single flight I take to
Plus, in addition to my exciting “psychic of the mundane” powers, I have the magic ability to generate thunderstorms in every location that I am flying in/out of. Including
And? I apparently fit some kind of terrorist profile, because I always get searched. And I almost always set off the metal detectors. I’ve been taken to special rooms to make sure I didn’t have weapons under my boobs more than once. I’ve been felt up by so many security people, that I’ve lost count. And I’ve never really recovered from having my carry-on searched and the security person holding up a pair of red thongs and commenting on them. That was embarrassing.
Is it too early to start drinking?