Now that I'm back from BlogHer in New York City, I can safely write this post.
I hate flying. I fly all the time, but no matter how many times I get on the plane, I don't feel relaxed until we have safely landed.
Of course, I have my share of "OMG, we totally almost crashed!" stories, like near-death landings. (I'm only slightly exaggerating here.)
I hate turbulance. Even though I have been told time and time again that it is safe, it just doesn't feel right when the plane you are on thousands of feet in the air shakes, drops, and goes through 'bumpy' patches. What the hell is a bumpy patch in the sky? Don't tell me. It still won't make sense to me.
Also? No matter what food is served on the plane, I will eat it all. I eat everything that is presented to me, even if it's gross and unidentifiable, because I know I will need my energy to tread water for hours until I am rescued. In case, you know, we drop from the sky and land in the ocean. I am a master swimmer and I can tread water for over an hour. I practice all the time, just in case.
When I was coming home from a vacation in Greece the year I graduated high school, I had a layover at Heathrow. While there, I bumped into a classmate who was returning from Scotland. We were on the same flight back to Ottawa. Then we bumped into another friend, who was coming home from Portugal. What a coincidence! We were all going to be on the same flight home! Shit.
I tried to keep the conversation light, but all I could see was the headline in the papers the following day:
Three students from the same graduating class perished on flight 147 from London to Ottawa.
I spent years working in television and radio, and I'm a news junkie. I see a good headline a mile away. I was not okay with being on the same flight as my two friends.
Of course, our plane didn't crash. But it was a very uncomfortable 6 hours.
Last week, I travelled to New York City on the same plane as quite a few other bloggers.
Tell me these headlines weren't just screaming to be written!
Plane of bloggers heading to BlogHer crashes.
BlogHer still going on despite the loss of several members of its community.
'I should have taken more than one Ativan!' were the last words heard before the crash.
Argh. With each mysterious bump, I held on for dear life. Of course, it didn't help that this was the very first plane ride I had taken without my children. What kind of a mother was I? Then I took my first Ativan and things got a lot better.
I walked by Sharon, and gave her a huge smile. "I'm feeling so good right now, Sharon," I said.
With a nod and a knowing smile, she said: "Isn't it great? You go from thinking: OH MY GOD! I'M GOING TO DIE! to: I may die..."
Needless to say, we landed safely. And my fear, once I returned back to Canada, subsided yet again.
Until the next flight.
Perhaps now that I have written this post, I should fly solo to San Diego for BlogHer'11?