Flying reminds me a bit of hanging out with an old girlfriend. There are moments where I stare at you and wonder why we ever broke up. You’re beautiful. You’re sexy and you’re a lot of fun. We start to talk and the conversation just flows.
For a while I start to wonder why we broke up. Maybe it wasn’t you, maybe it was me. But gradually I find evidence of the things that I didn’t like and the shine starts to fade a bit. When you laugh you snort. When we were going out I thought that it was cute, but at the end it made me crazy.
I notice a few other details that irritate me and slowly I remember why it is that we don’t see each other anymore.
That sort of describes my feelings about flying. There was a time when I loved it. It used to be special and exciting. It was an experience that I look forward to, but not anymore. Now it is a task.
And so it begins with a search for a ride to the airport. More often than not the trips are midweek so the family isn’t available to take me. Cabs and vans are expensive. Frankly I hate sharing them. I dislike having to make other stops to pick other travelers up. And even if I didn’t the fare with tip is almost always $50 bucks.
I can take the bus. A for a couple of bucks a day I can park the car and ride along with 50 others to go catch a ride on a flying tin can. I suppose that it is not such a bad thing. But it stresses me out.
And let’s not forget the whole security process. I am quite appreciative of the efforts that are being taken to protect us, but it is a grind. Having to take off my shoes, empty my pockets, dump the laptop and get checked out is a pain. I prefer to have it than not, but still…
Eventually you find yourself in the terminal where you get to just sit and wait.
Maybe it comes down to a lack of control. Maybe it is nothing more than frustration with having to give up the control of my time and ability to do what I want. If I am going somewhere I tend to prefer to be the one driving. I just feel more comfortable.
None of this covers the other details. My shoulders are two big for the seat and my knees often brush against the seat in front of me.
Confession time: I tend to do very little talking on flights. I prefer to sleep or watch a movie. But if I end up sitting next to someone talkative I often make up stories about my life. Sometimes I tell them that I played college football or soccer. Sometimes I tell them that I work in a Biotech lab and I am not allowed to discuss my job.
It all depends. I never really know what I am going to tell them in advance. I like to just let it unfold. I suppose I should run for a bit. I need to go pack.
Other Posts about Flying
Cruising At 34,000 Feet
Deciphering Frequent Flier Programs
All My Bags Are Packed
Airplane Trouble? Kill a Goat
Flying The Unfriendly Skies
Crying Child Forces Family From Plane
The Land of Lost Luggage
Airlines Continue To Rob The Public
The Joys of Flying Commercial Airlines
What If The Plane Crashes
Traveling Jack’s Plane Made It
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