I'm not a good flyer. I'm one of those people that just, for whatever reason, thinks it's not natural for humans to fly. When I'm on a plane, I see myself as a fish behind the wheel of a car: "I shouldn't be doing this, I shouldn't be doing this..." Several things happen to my personality when I fly, though. Number 1, I turn into the nicest, most polite person in the world. I'm terrified that if I don't open doors for ladies and do the ol' "Yes sir/no sir" routine, then the fates will send me hurtling into a mountain. "whoa whoa whoa...the Xmastime kid isn't being polite? Well, how bout I end his and 200 other people lives right now?" Also, as soon as the plane starts moving, I become REALLY religious. I went to church every Sunday for 18 years, I was a Super-Catholic back in the day. Nowadays, I don't believe in religion, I'm barely trying to believe in God, but you better believe the second that plane starts lurching forward I turn into the choir director from a black church in Alabama.. "Oh, Lord Jesus Jesus save us..." I jump into a few Hail Marys and Our Fathers; I'm praying that the fact that I actually remember the words to these things shocks God (whom I only believe in on a plane, of course) into sparing my life. I also show up at the airport like 3 hours early, as if I'll be rewarded for my promptness. I always assume everyone that's there flies constantly, that if I don't pay EXTREME close attention, I'm gonna miss my flight because I'm an outsider and don’t speak the language.
One thing that kills me (whoops, bad choice of words there...I'm actually writing this so that in case the plane crashes, this will be the most ironic blog posting of all time) is whenever there is a plane crash, and the news people will lament that there are "only" 15 or so survivors. I'm like..."only"????!?!? wtf. How do people survive plane crashes? I'm in a tin box 6 miles in the air that plummets to the earth at an unspeakable speed, and I survive it? How the fuck does that happen? That, to me, is in my "Top 3 Least Preferable Deaths." You have a couple of minutes to sit there and think "great...I'm gonna die...not only are they gonna find my mangled body covered in my own shit, but I should've thrown out my porn before I left for the airport..." And I got news for you: my plane's going down, I'm finding the hottest broad on the flight and feeling her up. Sorry, I know it's wrong, but that's the way it is. Maybe if I got your D-cups in my mitts, it'll ease the pain of my internal organs being strewn all over someone's cornfield.
Ironically, I spent a few years in the Air Force. I remember flying little planes all round and not even noticing. I remember hanging from helicopters during training drills to recover "dead" bodies. Didn't bother me at the time. But put me on a commercial plane, and I'm a nervous wreck. And they LOVE to tell you how low the odds of crashing are: "You have a better chance of being beaten in 3-card Monty by a French Yeti in a pantsuit than you do of crashing in a plane!" oh, fuck you. Anyway, my flight leaves in 7 hours, so I gotta get to the airport. Our father, who art in heaven...
1 comment:
I've learned....
A) you need the "Fying On an Airplane Drugs" They give you an "I don't give a shit if we're going down...this is sorta fun" feeling
B) Always sit next to a cute man and
C) if you do not pay close attention you WILL miss your flight. Not a fun time.
Honestly, I feel for you. I always have the same anxiety.... but you'll be fine. And when you land all safe and sound you feel like a miracle just occurred.
Fun blog. Linked from Monica.
Post a Comment