Friday, September 3, 2010

I hate flying, part I

Will: "I'll be happy when this whole bullfight with gravity is over."
From The West Wing episode - Angel Maintenance


I don't fly often. There's a reason. I hate it. OK, hate is a strong word. I don't mind landing, because that means that the flight is over. There are times I don't mind take-off, usually because it means I'm going home. And I actually like traveling to other places, especially if I can drive there. When traveling with others, I've always been grateful when they've indulged my fear and endured a long car ride over a trip to the airport. Alas, there are just some destinations where it doesn't make sense to drive. And so, I put myself through the exercise of terror that begins with the flight reservations.

Some people book flight departures based on work or traffic schedules. I book based on stress level. What time of day will the airport be the least crazy. What time of day will the world be the least crazy. It's comforting to see a certain measure of security, but there is something unnerving about trying to remember to take the bag of liquids out of the suitcase, the laptop, the shoes... even more unnerving when you've got a line of impatient people behind you who have somehow gotten this routine down to an exact science. So, if this means booking a flight that requires me to be at the airport before dawn, it ain't no thang. An added benefit – listening to Pink Floyd's Shine On You Crazy Diamond while flying with the sunrise. If there is a calm moment to be had, this is it.





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