in spite of Erica Jong, i do have a fear of flying.
i hate it.
(and yes, i do realize her fear of flying is completely different than mine. just go with me here)
i am reasonable, though...i understand that the majority of the time, it is the easiest way to get from point A to B, the Hilton commercial notwithstanding. don't try to sugar coat it, Madison Ave. i.hate.flying.
the Husband has no sympathy for me. see, he was born with the in-flight magazine in one hand and a list of all airport codes in the other. it's in his blood.
his brother sells airplanes and flies. their dad sold them for a short time, but also flew. at one point, most of the family worked in the travel industry.
his dad also started the Walt Disney Travel Co., many moons ago. oh and that he pissed of the president of Disneyland by racing on a moped through the parking lot frequently, but that's another post.
back to me. it is all about me, remember.
i've done most of my flying in my adult years...and actually have flown more in the last 12 years than in my whole 45 years.but.i.still.hate.it.
for some reason, take-offs scare the beejeebers out of me. not landings. strange, i know.
it didn't help that, years ago when i dated this one fellah, his father (who also was taking flying lessons) said to me "oh, you shouldn't worry about take-offs. worry about landings; they're controlled crashes."
thanks, ex-boyfriend's dad. don't help me.
but after meeting Brendan, there was a lot more flying in my future. trips to Vegas to visit the in-laws, later to Reno to see the Sister and all. honeymooning to Sedona. trips to Michigan and Florida.
then there was the fun work trips to Dallas and Philadelphia. trips i had to put on my Big Girl Panties and fly by myself.
fun, fun, fun, till the attendant takes the drink cart away.
but with all the fun of flying, i have discovered something: Southwest makes a killer Bloody Mary.and killer Bloody Marys make flying, for me, soooooooooooooo much easier. almost enjoyable. (i did say almost)
as i said before, Brendan doesn't get it. he doesn't understand why flying freaks me out. but i do. it's a control thing. as in i'm not in it. and for a control freak, it's a bad thing.
berry, berry bad.
so if i can't be in control of the giant flying Tylenol in the sky, i can be in control of how many Marys i date.
so just imagine, if you will, my frustration that our Thanksgiving flight leaves at 6am, before the airport bar does. which leaves me either to wait until they start drink service -or- fix one before we go.
but heck, even for me, 4:30 am is a wee bit early for a drinkie-poo.
thankfully, i've got until Thanksgiving to work this out.
if only all of life's problems were this easy to sort.