Sunday, March 4, 2007
The girl who fell from grace with the sky
In exactly two weeks I will be in a plane, minutes from landing in the Bahamas. One WHOLE WEEK of sun (and sunscreen- I'm practically albino), cocktails with fruit & umbrellas, lounging and (hopefully) some hot karaoke action. This will be my "15 years too late" Spring Break.
I can't wait for the beer bong...
Did I mention that I'm a REALLY bad flier? Ask anyone who has had the misfortune of flying with me in the last 10 years. I fucking hate flying. I can't relax- all I can think is "when is this piece of crap plane going to drop out of the sky, and what embarrassing things will they find in my house after I'm incinerated in the flaming wreckage?" I, like most marginally sane people, do not want to die. I especially don't want to die in a plane crash. It is very low on the list of ways I'd go out if I were lucky enough to choose.
If you've read the book "Stiff" you'd understand. I really, really, REALLY should not have read that book. Didn't help one bit.
My doctor gave me Xanax for my last trip- totally useless. Even with a couple glasses of wine. Nothing.
This time I want horse tranquilizers. And Valium. That should do it.
I can do this- the trip is worth it.
If you're on the same flight as me I won't be hard to spot, though. I'll be the one rocking back and forth in my seat, blinking too much and counting from one to ten in between sips of wine in a plastic cup.
The crazy one no one wants to sit next to.