A little known fact about me is that I hate flying. The whole process of getting through security sucks, but just like George Clooney in Up in the Air, I know exactly what to do, what to pack, and who to stand behind in line. I also know exactly which rows on Southwest they start the beverage service and where the least amount of turbulence can be felt on the plane. Aisle 9 is optimum for all of the above. First to get drinks, on the wing so less bumps, and close enough to the front for easy exit. People tend to not sit in the middle seat between you in aisle 9 because either they cram into that fun filled bitch seat in the first 3 rows, or they head to the back of the plane so they can have their own row. I have flown so much, at least once every two weeks, that you would think I would be fine with the actual flight. Hell mutha effin no. I clam up like nobody’s business. The thought of not being in control and being in a situation where if something goes wrong, you’re dead, freaks the living shit out of me. I used to be completely fine with flying. My Dad lived in Arizona when I was a kid and I would fly out to see him once a month by myself. Never bothered me. It was the flight going from Savannah, GA to San Francisco in 2007 that did it for me. We had hit a storm over the mid west and the plane dramatically dropped 1000 feet and shook like hell. They had to turn off the movie, tell everyone to take their seats and hold on, and said that it was going to get worse. I was in the very back of the plane in a middle seat between two women I didn’t know. I could hear the flight attendants behind me in their seats and they were scared! THAT sent me into a panic. The rough turbulence went on for about 30 minutes and I’m talking hold on to your chair so you don’t fall kind of rocking. It was like a giant was shaking us. Worst flight of my life. Ever since then, I have been terrified during flying. It of course hasn’t stopped me. I even did a 18 hour flight to Singapore and 11 hour flight to London the year after that. Ready to shit my pants the whole time, but I did it. I have flown so much lately that I get better each time…until this recent Sunday. I was flying from Burbank back to Oakland after coming into town for the wedding. I ended up seeing a coworker on my flight and sat next to her. She was equally as thrilled to be on a plane as I was. The take off was pretty bumpy but nothing too bad. Then, mid flight, we had two really strong jolts to the plane out of no where. The two of us held our breath and looked out the window. Then the pilot came on the intercom and yelled, “Flight attendants to your seats now! Flight attendants to your seats now! Everyone buckle up!” I shit you not, I was ready to have a heart attack. Normally the pilot is calm and will say, don’t worry folks, it’s just a bit of bumps. This was like shear panic from the cockpit. Thank god my coworker was sitting next to me, because we locked arms and squeezed each other’s hands like we were giving birth. Thankfully, we ended up smoothing out for a bit and then the landing was pretty bumpy as well. Not as bad as the Savannah flight, but pretty close. It’s not natural to have something that heavy in the air. And have you seen those cockpits? Two pilots in a closet surrounded by buttons and two tiny windows to look out. That makes me feel safe. God, I hate flying. The End.
