Flying Is For The Birds

 

Before my trip.

I had a wonderful vacation last week with members of my family who live in France.  The only problem was the travel.

I hate flying – it just sucks.  9-hours New York to Paris.  I don’t even like to do things I like to do for 9-hours!  Plus I can’t sleep on planes because I’m afraid that if I fall asleep, they’ll crash.  I know this isn’t a realistic fear but I have it just the same.  A more rational fear is catching something; planes are hermetically-sealed germ factories.

Over the years my fear and discomfort have gotten worse.  I sit in the rear of the aircraft (the part of the plane that crashes last) next to the aisle so I can bolt if there’s a “controlled crash” (landing) that does not end well.  I just about weep when the flight attendant holds up the thin “flotation device” which the passengers are supposed to deploy if the plane crashes into the Atlantic Ocean.

I find it hard to sit in my seat and the crew discourages frequent walks in the aisles checking the wings to see if anything’s loose.  They say it makes other passengers nervous.  I make my seat feel more spacious by going into the restroom which is a real claustrophobic nightmare by comparison. Mostly I’m just bored. For 9-hours.

Next year, I’m just going to drug myself out and wake up when the plane lands.  If I pass out on my seat mate’s shoulder and drool into his lap, what are they going to do?  Throw me out?

After.

 

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