flying.

Tomorrow, I board a plane.

It’s probably going to take a 600 mg of motrin and a hydroxyzine to get me there, but then my mother and I will be off to Florida for the week.

How does anyone else not feel ungodly unstable the second the plane lifts from the earth, and wavers to find it’s air-footing? How can anyone trust a genuine stranger to fly them thousands of feet in the air (a person they can’t even see in order to gauge emotions or expressions or how tired they may be)? No one just pays to hop in a car where they neither know nor can see the driver. Also, if that car stalls, all you do is call AAA and at worst you’re delayed for a little while. If the plane stalls, you’re fucked. I like absolutely nothing about the concept or application of flying, except for maybe the can of coke poured over my little plastic glass of ice the stewardess gives me.

Well, that, and the enormous release of tension I get the second we’ve safely landed and I can release my grip on the armrest; that part I enjoy.

4 months ago  Notes (8)
  1. yourblacksheep posted this