Infrequent Flier

I made reservations today to go visit my cousin in Arizona in the next couple months.

Going to take a long weekend (school will be out) and take off for a few days.

I don't like to fly. I know all the scenarios, 'you're more likely to die in a car wreck on your way to the airport than you are to die in a plane crash'. I plugged a query into Google and got some other statistics.

I know all that.

I have flown before. I have taken my children on airplanes. I have always arrived safely at my destination. My kids have traveled, too. Safely. But man, I hate getting on that plane. In the days leading up to a plane flight, I worry. I don't sleep for shit. I freak out big time.

I'll go. I won't cry or say anything to other passengers. I may actually even remember to breathe as the flight gets off the ground and cruises along about 29,000 feet (that's a long way to fall, if you should wonder) and I will manage to speak as needed. Manage to maintain.

So why, when perusing the website and deciding when to leave/return did it feel like playing Russian Roulette?

I'm so nervous about flying that being anally probed by the TSA probably won't even get my attention.

I am pleased to have the opportunity to go see my cousin. She married her longtime partner last month in California at 11 PM (11/12/13/14) and this will be my opportunity to hug them and cry on them and all that. I'm very happy that we've reached a point in most states where people realize that the love of two consenting adults is really their business. I love them both, and I know I'll enjoy seeing them. But I wish I didn't have to fly.