I Don't Have a Fear of Flying, It's More About the Crashing

We have a wedding in May. It's the wedding of a close friend and by "close" I mean: only people who share my bloodline have been in my life longer.

In the first grade she and I got off to a rocky start. I was wary of her "spots" (remnants of her recent chicken pox) and told my mom as much. I don't remember exactly, but my mom must have given me some good advice because several bad perms, dozens of slumber parties, and a gazillion hours on the phone later we are still friends.

Alas, her wedding is many, many miles away and the thought of traveling all those miles by car with two small children is a bit daunting. Actually Kyle is a car trip champion and I wouldn't worry about him, but in Cade's first twelve months he has yet to prove himself as a pleasant road trip companion (bless his heart) and I think it is not realistic to expect much improvement by May.

Last night Mike said, "I don't suppose you would consider flying?"

Oh my.

Immediately the Alanis Morrisette song "Isn't It Ironic" popped into my head. You know the one?

Mr. Play It Safe was afraid to fly
He packed his suitcase and kissed his kids goodbye
He waited his whole (bleep) life to take that flight
And as the plane crashed down he thought
"Well isn't this nice..."
And isn't it ironic... don't you think?

I used to fly with virtually no problem. I first flew by myself when I was probably 10 or 11 years old and really considered myself quite sophisticated for it. On my first unaccompanied flight I got the brilliant idea to order coffee and the stewardess gave me coffee. Seriously? Try as I might, I couldn't choke the stuff down so I did what any rational person would do and stuffed my napkins in my cup to absorb as much of the liquid as possible then went without a drink for the remainder of the flight. (Shaking head in disbelief. Oh I am such a dork.) Incidentally to this day I don't drink coffee. Coincidence?

Then 9/11 happened and I have not stepped on a plane or even considered it since. Mock me if you will.

When Mike posed the question about flying, with only a little hesitation I said, "Sure. If it's our time to go to Heaven then I'm ready." I think I may be more serious than joking. I really, really, really don't want to get on a plane. On the other hand, I really don't want to drive eleventy hundred hours with Cade in the span of 3 or 4 days.

and isn't it ironic...don't ya think?...

Did I mention I am claustrophobic?