Traveling from Nashville to Detroit for work. I hate flying. Nothing feels more powerless. I’d rather make a four hour drive than take a one hour flight any day of the week.
Never do we relinquish so much control over the well being of our own lives as we do when we board an airplane. We place all of our faith in the mechanical functionality of the plane, of which we have little to know knowledge, and in the fateful hands of the pilot, who we do don’t even lay eyes on until after the flight. You do understand that don’t you, we don’t even get to see the pilot until after the job is done. If you’re riding a bus you can at least see the bus driver, not to mention if there is a mechanical issue with the bus, it can pull over. Airplanes don’t pull over… they drop out of the sky.
The saddest part is, I actually like to travel. I love to go to different places and see different things, I just hate the fact that I have to take a plane to get there. Before every flight I am forced to come to grips with my own mortality, I close my eyes and think, if I die today… it’s been a good life. And to the outside world I look comfortable enough on a plane, as I have at this point, been on more flights then I can count and by my outward appearance I seem to do just as well on them as any other frequent flyer, but in all actuality I hate every moment. The only time I really fly well is in the presence of my wife, she has a calming effect on me that make the threat of imminent death not seem all that bad. But when I fly alone every portion of the trip is a horrible horrible experience.
But I digress, needless to say my flight landed safely in Detroit and I am here for the next two days, until it is time for me to take another terror filled flight back home, of which we all can only pray I survive.