Eye in the Sky

I’m off for the weekend to In-Law Palooza. This time tomorrow, I will be in Boston – my beautiful Boston – which is just about the most exciting thing I’ve ever imagined, because I will get to see my city again for the first time since December. The skyline! The weather! The Atlantic Ocean, which will be a proper navy blue instead of the very beautiful, but very wrong, turquoise! The only downside is that this trip isn’t a fun trip, it’s an In-Law Trip, so every. single. blasted. second. is scheduled with in-laws, and we’re leaving before we can even see friends or my family.* But there will be sightings of the Charles River, and actual Boston Chinese food with actual duck sauce that doesn’t come in packets, and I will breathe a little easier just seeing it.

The thing that’s giving me endless angst is that I have to fly there, and if I’ve never mentioned it, I hate flying with a white-hot passion that is paralleled only by my lack of enjoyment for having my period for 23 days straight, which I also have the pleasure of experiencing at the same time. (Yes, yes, I’m going to the doctor. Ahem.)

So, the flying. I hate the flying. Last time I flew, to distract me from the terror of that initial climb through the clouds, I made up a list of all the horrid things I would rather be doing than taking off in an airplane. An actual smattering:
- Having my period for 60 days straight (I had no idea I was a prophet)
- Getting my nose pierced in my septum, at least 11 times consecutively until it was dangerously perforated
- Eating sauteed bull’s testicles with tomato sauce
- Cleaning up 100 piles of dog feces from a dog other than my own, with my bare hands
- Shaving the dead skin off of a male stranger’s toes
- Having four back-to-back breast or thyroid biopsies
- Getting my blood drawn 100 times for an entire day
- Getting into the stirrups for 50 – yes, 50 – consecutive pap smears

So, if anyone has a way I can work out some kind of deal to do all of these things in exchange for getting me to Boston, stat, I’m all ears. Sunny is coming with us, however, as we’ll be sleeping at my sister’s, and she’ll have round the clock puppy sitters in the form of my nephews and yay, whatever.

But again, I have to FLY to get there. And while I’ve spent hours and hours taking Xanax, learning the inner workings of plane engines, velocity, physics, etc. so that I could be less afraid, I’m still scared. I’m better than I was – there was a time that I would actually scream at people who dared talk during takeoff. Yes, scream. Last year, I turned around to a couple who looked at each other and dared to go “Whoa!” as we turned immediately after takeoff and screamed, “YOU SHUT UP. JUST SHUT UP. WE’RE FINE AND THAT IS JUST INAPPROPRIATE. DO NOT ‘WOO’ WHILE WE ARE ON THIS PLANE. ANOTHER WORD, ANOTHER ‘WOO’ AND I WILL SCREAM.”

Um, except I was already screaming, and I really wish I was kidding. Once we leveled off, and I was more accustomed to flying, I was mortified as they whispered about me the whole time, making fun of my bad hair day (which was legendary, even to my frightened eyes) and kicking my seat. I finally turned around and shouted, “I’M SORRY. I AM AFRAID TO FLY AND CANNOT HANDLE IN-FLIGHT DISTURBANCES. I’M ASKING YOU TO SHUT UP AGAIN, PLEASE. I HAVE BAD HAIR AND I DO NOT CARE. I AM AFRAID TO FLY.”

And then I started crying, right there in their faces, and rocking back and forth and, um, yeah. Because we were about to go down deep…deep…deep into the abyss of the Atlantic and strangers were making fun of my hair and I was screaming at them.

To prevent a repeat performance, I plan to take a Benadryl to numb the pain, and mimic, as best I can, the effects of a Xanax, while I pray Sunny doesn’t start howling like a wounded coyote from her safe stow underneath the seat in front of me.

And such, no real updates here until Tuesday. Have a great weekend, everyone.

16 comments June 22nd, 2006