Here’s the thing.
I dream both day and night of seeing the world, going on fabulous adventures. Hiking up beautiful mountains in the Swiss Alps, sipping wine in Spain, laying on a beach in Croatia, snorkeling at the Great Barrier Reef in Australia, eating spicy food in Bangkok, relaxing in the Blue Lagoon in Iceland…the list goes on.
But I do not like to fly.
I do not enjoy it. Not at all. Not one. little. bit.
It’s not that I’m afraid, it’s just…okay yes fine, it’s absolutely that I’m afraid. The way I see it, if I were meant to be in the air, God would have given me wings. For me, the only pleasant part of any flight is the part where the wheels touch the ground again. Until that moment, I am a tense ball of nerves, liable to snap at any and everyone who crosses my path. This includes, but is not limited to, my darling and wonderful husband, the totally innocent cleaning lady in the airport bathroom and the flight attendant who has my beloved free Diet Coke. Plus it doesn’t help that Andy swears he needs the window seat so I get stuck in the middle because I’m “smaller” and “sometimes friendly enough to be trusted speaking to other humans.”
The most recent flight I took was this Christmas when we spent the holiday in Colorado with Andy’s family. We were flying into Vail, which is an airport right smack dab in the middle of some pretty darn big mountains. As I nervously awaited the impending steep descent down the side of a mountain and onto the runway, I noticed we had been “5 minutes from our destination” for 20 minutes. Turned out there was a snowstorm and the pilot couldn’t land, and an announcement was made that we only had about 30 minutes left of fuel and the pilot was deciding whether we should reroute to Grand Junction.
Allow me to give you some customer feedback, Mr. Pilot: YOU SHOULD NOT EVER, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, TELL YOUR PASSENGERS THAT YOU ARE LOW ON FUEL AND HAVE NOWHERE TO LAND.
But it’s fine I’m fine we totally lived.
The other day I was researching whether we could bring our own snacks onto the plane (a girl needs her Cheez-Its, amirite Juliette?), and I stumbled across the most life-changing information probably in recorded history. I’m talking big, you guys. This is more important than the invention of the wheel, finding Amelia Earhardt, the advent of electricity, all of it.
American Airlines offers complimentary wine and beer aboard many international flights, including the one I will take to London this Saturday.
So as you can see, I’m going to be just fine.
Official Eurotrip countdown: FIVE MORE DAYS.
—The Wife in Training