My stomach is knotting, and my flight to Albuquerque isn’t even until tomorrow morning. About 23 hours from now, actually. But I really dislike flying. That’s in spite of having done a fair amount of it over my lifetime. In big airliners, I’ve flown to places all over the U.S., and I’ve flown to England, and to Europe and back.
In an attempt to face my fear I once took a flying lesson. I It was exhilarating, fabulous. I flew that little two-seater Cessna around for an hour or so. I was afraid but it was fun, too, and now I understand the reason people want to fly. I’ve flown in other small planes, taking photos out the window for the newspaper. I’ve even flown endless figure-8s over Portland, Oregon in an AWACs aircraft.
But I still really don’t like to fly, particularly in airliners. Perhaps it’s the closed-in-a-tin-can feeling. Maybe it’s the packed crowds of people. My mind can’t wrap around the idea of a plane filled with people, each one weighing 100-200 pounds (or more), and the plane itself weighing several hundred tons, flying through the air at 35,000 feet. My mind rejects the idea it can even get off the ground.
Of course, it can. And airliners do, every day, all over the world, and accidents are exceedingly rare. I know this.
My stomach is in knots anyway. So, I’ll go concentrate on packing. Ten days in Los Alamos, New Mexico, with my mom and sister, and her two dogs and her horse. We’ll be seeing the sights. Should be a hoot. I’m taking my laptop so I can keep meeting the challenge of 100 words a day for 50 days (and read the news each morning and evening), And I’m taking my digital camera, too, so I might be posting some photos before long.
Well, I will if the airliner manages to lumber up into the air and then back down without a bang, anyway. Sigh.