It's past midnight on the Saturday before my trip. I'm not sure why I get all wack about trips just before they happen. I feel like I'm on the edge of a precipice... about to take a step into the unknown.
Well, that's very dramatic. Usually, I'm ok by the time I actually get on the plane.
I guess, that is, unless it's a plane dealing with turbulence.
Remember that plane that went down a few years ago just off the coast of Brazil? They thought turbulence had caused it to go down.
Now, I've been flying since I was five. At five years of age, I flew from California to Pennsylvania to stay with my grandparents. I never blinked. Never had an issue. Never had anxiety.
My dad few small airplanes. I was his flying buddy, and even though he would scare me to death sometimes with his aerial acrobatics, it never stopped me from flying.
But several years back, I had the flight of my life. Frequent fliers probably all have their stories of planes on the tarmac or planes with engine troubles. My story started on a trip from London back to Houston.
I was in an aisle seat, but in the middle section. Next to me sat a rather spiffy looking gentleman who drank a lot and on the other side of him, an engineer going on a business trip. Who would've thought that I would end up having deep transatlantic discussions with the two of them the entire time! It was wonderful, really, though I got NO sleep at all.
Well, we were about halfway across the Atlantic when it hit. The turbulence to end all turbulence. Kinda like that scene from Flash Gordon (roll forward to about the 3:54 mark)...
The new friends I just made were trying to console me, but it was as if someone had reached a hand out and grabbed our plane - shaking it up and down. Bins few open, people screamed. Or... maybe it was just me screaming! Anyway, if it happens again, I won't be flying anymore. Scary stuff.
See what goes through my mind just before a trip! LOL... ok, off to work on my packing list.
Take care all!