“ma’m, you’re not having a seizure or anything are you?”

- The 19 year old navy kid next to me on my hopper flight from Pensacola to Houston tonight.

I’m afraid of flying. Extremely. I gasp, I shake (prompting the kid’s concern) and at times cry. A true testament to my love of travel (and my job for that matter) is that I suck it up and get on a plane several times a month. I know it’s an irrational fear but…. Those are the worst. I do better when I’m on a plane with someone I know --- then I can rationalize, if they aren’t freaking out, things are fine. This POA is blown to hell however, when traveling with Melissa, who shares my fear. Together we turn into a bad Laurel and Hardy routine (I gasp over nothing, she screams because I gasped …. things decline from there). This is the only solace I take in her not coming on this big adventure with me.

Travis always jokes that my flying phobia is the reason we met. We met 9 years ago when I sat next to him on a flight from NYC to Houston. I asked him to tell me about the magazine he was reading, explaining I needed someone to take my mind off the flight. He thought it was a pick up line (it wasn’t). He responded that he was only looking at the pictures and that he was excited to go to Houston because there are Whataburgers there. I thought he was an idiot (he wasn’t).
Not usually an overly-emotional girl, this flight marks the 2nd time I have cried in two hours. The first time was in the airport when the lady checking me in at Continental asked me where my other half was. I assumed she meant Lyric (who I had just left bawling in the car with my parents minutes earlier) and burst into tears. As it turned out she meant Rainey. Note: the 60 something year old Continental clerk is obsessed with my boss. I had forgotten. I wiped my tears, answered her 20 questions about Rainey’s whereabouts (and more importantly his return!) and promptly called my mother to tell her (for the 100th time) to keep my child away from the pool while I’m gone. This may be the first time in my life that my mother has told me to stop calling her. Fair enough.

The competition starts tomorrow. We arrive into San Fran tonight and then at some point tomorrow we are contacted and told we have two hours to get to the airport and go to (insert random unknown for now country). I’m stoked! I will be more stoked when I’m off this small bouncy plane.

Blogging, by definition, is self indulgent and although I enjoy it, I always feel self conscious doing it. I promised someone I would blog every day of my trip and it is currently taking my mind off this one flight I’m on sans my 7-foot, Whataburger loving man. So thank you for reading my indulgences… and don’t judge me too harshly for my grammatical errors (Bubba…. Erik…. David…this means you)!.
xo
April