Yesterday my body let me know how tired it was and refused to do much of anything. I managed a dash to the store to replenish my dwindling food supplies, but not much more. The reason for my (contented) exhaustion landed with me at the airport in Missoula around 5:00PM the day before after a week spent visiting and sightseeing in New Mexico far to the south.
I’ll tackle my tourist activities in a different post when I’m more up to detailing them, but for now I’ll share what a huge accomplishment it is for me to survive the flying anxiety that wants to ground me. I know my buddy Anxiety doesn’t like to have fun, but in retrospect it’s fun to make fun of my buddy Anxiety…
I really wish they’d let me interview the pilot to see if he/she is feeling lucky today!
Deep breath, deep breath. Oh, okay, I guess they spend years training to make their own luck. After all, they wouldn’t get on the plane if they thought it’d crash.
Planes are supposed to fly in a straight line, not up and down and side-to-side!
Deep breath, deep breath. It’s called turbulence and if you take a moment to look around you’ll notice other people aren’t screaming and the flight attendant is calmly pouring drinks.
There’s a red light! There’s a red light on the panel and I can see it from here and no one is dealing with the red light! Are all these people crazy? There’s a red light on the panel and the plane is going to crash and no one cares!
Deep breath, deep breath. Oh, the red light means the coffee is ready.
Yeah, thoughts like that. Perhaps if I flew more I’d adapt better? After all, I learned that the airport in Denver combats the high temperatures outside by keeping their terminal near freezing, an uncomfortable fact when you’re wearing shorts. Besides, if I wore something nicer than shorts I’d look as good as all the flight attendants who wore snappy uniforms that put me to shame.