There was only one thing standing between me and our ten year anniversary trip to Vegas last week:
2,090 miles of airspace.
That’s a lot for a girl who once unbuckled her seat belt and stood up in the middle of the aisle to ask why the oxygen masks were not deploying when the flight she was on hit a pocket of turbulence.
Who had to breathe into a paper bag while a flight attendant rubbed her back and had her visualize Jesus holding her plane up by a string over the the Bermuda Triangle that one time.
And who has on occasion demanded a look inside the cockpit to make sure the pilots aren’t drunk.
Thanks to cognitive-behavioral therapy and Xanax, the girl has made great strides flight-wise, so that where once she considered it a miracle if her flight made it to its destination in one piece, she now flies with “75% confidence” that it will. Which leaves the other 25% free to wander the anxious depths.
The Scene: Continental Airlines Flight 580 Nonstop Service Cleveland to Las Vegas.
“I don’t have a good feeling about this flight.”
“Oh, really. Why is that?”
“I don’t know. I feel kind of guilty for going off without the kids and I’m pretty sure that automatically increases the chances of something happening.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“It’s not ridiculous. Are you telling me you don’t care even one iota if we die and leave Jonas and V-meister orphans?”
“We are not going to die and leave Jonas and V-meister orphans.”
“On a scale of 1 to 10, what do you think the chances are that this flight will crash?’
“I’m not going to answer that.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Did you take your Xanax?”
“Go ahead and take it.”
“Okay. That wing looks like it’s about to snap right off.”
“OH MY GOD, DID YOU HEAR THAT SOUND?”
“Something is wrong with one of the engines.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It sounds like one of them is about to cut out.”
“Do you know this from your experience as a tech writer?”
“You know what? You won’t be laughing during the emergency landing when I’m the first out the chute with a can of beer in each hand.”
“Yes I will.”
“Don’t talk to me, I’m praying.”
P.S. We made it! And as a bonus, we also made it back. I might write about it later, but then again maybe I won’t. That promise of Part Two in my Study Abroad “series” is still hanging like an albatross around my neck.Did you like this? Subscribe to the blog. (It's free!)