It’s that time of year again. The time of year where I have to squelch all my fears and board a plane.
Anyone that knows me, knows I don’t like cats, brussels sprouts or flying — basically in that order. And while it’s pretty easy to avoid cats and brussels sprouts, it’s almost unavoidable that I have to get on a plane a few times a year.
That’s because my husband likes to travel, as do our family and friends. So, when it comes time to plan trips, my vote for a “Nashville staycation†is always met with eye rolls, hisses and boos. This means that starting about now until around Thanksgiving, one way or another I’m going to be on several flights.
One way or another — meaning willingly or unwillingly — because my family is the type that would carry me kicking and screaming onto a plane, if it meant that they would miss their summer trip.
So, I cope, as many mothers do!
I have my lucky necklace which I wear on all flights. I have my lucky flying “outfit†that I also wear on all flights. I have my lucky shoes that I wear on all flights. Basically, for the last 20 years I’ve been wearing the same outfit on every single flight I’ve ever taken. And, fingers crossed, it seems to work!
I also have a playlist of Ben Shapiro podcasts because I find his voice calming, and Frank Sinatra favorites, also because I find his voice calming. One time my husband forgot his earbuds and shared mine. That lasted about five minutes because I don’t switch up my flying playlist for anyone, and he thought it was weird that I almost had a freak-out when he tried to convince me otherwise.
The other freak-out always happens over seating. My husband likes to book an aisle seat for himself, and usually does it in a row right after an exit door, as those often have more leg room. This means I’m either in the middle seat or by the window and am then always asked by the flight crew whether I’d be willing to open the exit door, in case of an emergency.
Over the years, I’ve just learned to lie, because that will never happen, but also because the one time I said no, I thought my husband would have his own freak-out. So now I just nod my head and on the inside I’m saying “Are you insane! You think I’m going to open this door? Do I work for the airline? You should have a better Plan A than me!†Because I promise you if the exit door needs opening, then someone will have to crawl over my dead body to get to it. I’ll be dead from shock the minute that scenario becomes a reality, and the fact I lied will be something I’ll carry to my grave.
And don’t get me started about the recent flight where the door flew off!
So, we fly out this week and I’ve already started with a mini-freak out.
“You have to move us, I’m not sitting by the door!â€
“I can’t,†my husband advises. “Flight is full.â€
“I’m not getting on that plane, then.â€
“Then, I’m getting the aisle seat. You sit by the door!â€
My husband likes to fly, but only a little more than me. He has this thing about aisle seats. Not sure if it’s a lucky thing or a freak-out thing, but we are about to find out because there is literally no way I’m not sitting in the aisle seat!
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