This week I had to travel to Charlotte for work. I am generally fine with flying- the takeoffs and landings always sort of freak me out, but once we're in the air I'm content to just sit and read and try to ignore the inevitable screaming child directly behind me.
The flight home yesterday was rough, though. I'm not sure if I was just stressed out from the events of the day (big meeting, seeing my life flash before my eyes at least five times while my boss drove us around) or what, but I had a hard time relaxing on the plane. First of all, it was one of those tiny puddle jumper-types of planes, too small to even carry on luggage. I was uneasy about leaving my bag at the gate- I have an irrational fear of my luggage getting lost or someone taking mine by mistake. This has never happened to me, so I'm not sure what I'm always so nervous about it. Anyway, then we took off a little late into rainy and windy weather. It seemed like the plane had a difficult time climbing into the air- it kept dipping down and sounded like the engines were trying to hard to get us up. There were a few moments when I really thought the engines were going to give out and we were going to plummet to the earth. I was actually trying to calculate our chances of survival based on how high up we were.
Finally, we got to a good cruising altitude and I was able to try to ignore my nerves by getting absorbed in my book (The Piper's Son by Melina Marchetta- so. good.). But then my ears were popping SO horribly that I became completely deaf a few times and I was certain my head was seconds away from exploding. That was new to me too- I think the fact that my allergies have my sinuses so jacked up now had something to do with it.
It was seriously the longest hour and thrity-seven minutes of my life. I'm not sure I've ever been happier to walk through my front door, even if I was greeted by a massive pile of cat vomit in the bedroom. Ah, home sweet home.
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