Feet on the Ground
File this under stuff you need to know, but I don’t like to fly. I don’t like anything about it. I don’t like the part where you get on the plane, or the part where you sit down and try not to look out the window, but can’t help but look out the window. And that part where the lady next to me starts praying? I don’t like that part either.
Is the wing supposed to move like that? Because I took a TWA flight back in 2001, and I could swear the wing was ready to come off. That was the last time I was on a plane. I know. But, it’s true. I don’t go anywhere I can’t drive. Arizona you say? No problem. California, Utah, whatever. I could probably fly to Hong Kong and back a few dozen times for a comparable amount of money, considering the price of petro.
The upcoming honeymoon is probably going to involve a plane. And if it doesn’t, then our honeymoon probably sucked. Yeah. The future wife thinks I should just take some kind of pill to knock me out, or hit the booze. But that doesn’t help because I’m mostly afraid of the crashing, not the flying. And I’m not aware of a pill that will stop that from happening.
