I Want To FLY!

If God intended for me to fly he would have given me wings. Have you ever heard that phrase before? It's my motto. Now, don't get me wrong I have flown plenty of times to and fro. All flights start and end the same for me.

About fourteen years ago I made a command decision that I was GOING to take a trip. I called a travel agent, called my girls and said pack your bags I just got us an amazing deal. 7 days in Cancun at the Casa de Paralysis super dupah cheap. And as Geoff and crew were driving us to Boston it began. What if this is it? What if I'm the .01% chance. I'm never going to see Geoff and my dog again. My thread of hope was that I actually went to a psychic and asked her if my plane was going to crash. She didn't really answer the question the way I wanted her to. It was all cryptic and I left feeling....the same. So, the night before after we picked up bff #3 from the airport we headed back to the hotel. Where I proceeded to drink myself under the table and made my girl friends sleep in the same bed with me because I was terrified. They were not impressed.

If I could have cried that morning I would have but I think I was experiencing some type of liver slash kidney slash stomach slash brain malfunction. I proceeded to get VIOlently ill...Think Mr. Creosote. We boarded the plane I cried - then passed out and woke up in Mexico.

My father gave me his plane ticket to go see my brother Thom when he was living in Pensacola FL. I wept like a baby boarding that plane. With a Scarlet O'Hara - I'm never going to see my Geoffrey again. He pushed me on the plane and left. Then I was just mad at him. On my way home I called him from Georgia during a layover. We had experienced some really crazy turbulence. I announced to him on my collect call that I was not in fact getting back on that plane. I'm going to die!!! Doesn't anyone understand!!! He hung on me and said that he would see me in Manchester. Tough love that guy....tough love.

But nothing quite compares with my work adventures and traveling. Sprinting 8,000 miles in Chicago O'Hare Airport in heels with a stupid brand new leather wheelie bag saying, excuse me, pardon me, beg pardon, excuse me. You get to your gate out of oxygen, stressed sweating and they kindly tell you that the flight terminal has changed. Or being in Atlanta and having to take the subway to your terminal. Do I take A, B or C? I can navigate the T in Boston easier than this. I was reduced to eenie - meenie - miney - mo. Or when United use to [or maybe they still do this ] have the color pass and I was always the lucky duck who got brown. Hooray for me I get to sit next to the toilet again.

But one lovely flight out of Ohio confirmed my suspicions that planes are giant metal coffins floating amongst the skies. See, I started to get a little cocky. Although my nerves were frayed like grannies house coat I would just grab a magazine and flip though. doooodeeedeeeedaaaadaaadeeeedoooooo. And halfway through the flight "The Captain" came on and said, buckle up folks we are going to experience some turbulence. Yeah yeah turbulanceschmerbulance. Besides my belt buckle was still fastened and at that very moment cutting the circulation off to my legs. And then it started. Only it was nothing NOTHING  I had experienced before. We dropped. We dropped so fast that people started screaming. This is a dreaded sound to me on an airplane. It means something terrible is happening. I sat there with my magazine staring at the page and pooping my pants. We shot back up, we dropped back down and the erie engine sound was blaring in my ears. Up, down, pop up shoot down, feel the seat pushing against you, don't start crying please don't start crying. When that plane landed safely back in Boston I was fairly certain that I had lost 7 of my 9 lives. When I got up the woman sitting in the seat next to me was gripping the arms of the chair. I thought...right there with ya sistah and I turned around to grab my bag. When I looked back at her she was crying. I mean sobbing crying. Always an uncomfortable moment I looked at her and said, hey any flight that has a successful landing was a successful flight. I reached my hand out to her and she looked at me and said this. "I haven't flown in six years. The last time I was on a plane it crashed." PTTTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT! I gave her a hug which goes against all my fibers to hug strangers and said. It's all going to be OK we landed! We're safe.

This was soon followed up with my trip to Toronto where I was on a plane so small both arms could reach the sides of the plane. The only thing separating me and the great Capiton` was a nice black curtain or death shroud. Or the time my seat was broken going to Dulles and back. Literally you could lift it and move it around. The flight attendant said that I was sitting in the wrong seat to which I replied seriously??? Have you seen my seat? I am NOT sitting on that. Or the time I got stuck in Newark with a three and half hour layover. I bought some stock in Sam Adams that night. When we were ready to board the plane I actually exited out some secret door behind the bar onto the tarmac with a prop plane that instantly had me singing....We he he elll little things you say and do...make me want to be with youaoooahooo. I plopped myself down and the business folk proceeded to keep the party going regardless.

That is the readers digest version of flying - I need to find a way to not be such a bachabach BAAAACH! I keep reading all these other blogs where people are traveling and seeing things and it makes me sad. I want to see those things. I want to see history and eat a cupcake at some fancy bistro. I want to eat 400 different kinds of cheeses with breads and olives and wine and say with a stuffed mouth: Ohhhhmygod this is soooooo good. I want to go to Australia and listen to accents and then say "The Dingo Ate My baaaybee" I want to go fishing in Scotland and buy yarn. I want to go visit people that I miss and see what their world is like. Just as soon as I can pluck all my chicken feathers out. Its my new goal...as someone else on a blog said. Sometimes you just gotta start by putting your shoes on.