As I age, I become less tolerant of the things I have no control over, marriage not withstanding. I have come to hate rollercoasters and loathe airline flying. But to reach Mardi Gras, I roll the dice against Death and AirTrain(formerly known as ValueJet) and fly off to New Orleans.
I didn`t mind flying a decade ago or longer, when that was the only practical mode of transportation to get from anywhere stateside to the American Paradise of St. Thomas.
The first five minutes of the ascent are the most gutwrenching, as precarious as a baby`s first unsure steps. A dip here and there strengthens my relationship with my maker.
I am just discovering that the two complimentary drinks you get in business class placates all forms of mortal terror. – The earth smiles up at me at 45 degrees. “Oooh, how nice…”
The loss of equilibrium that comes with intoxication seamleassly blends with the pitch and heave of slight turbulence and pilot correction. “It`s all good,” I surmise, as I scribble blissfully on a barf bag.
Our main flight attendant provides much comic relief and possibly(update: definitely) a sign of things to come. The captain announces that said flight attendant is generous with the beads. I pass at the opportunity to find out. A bumpy, but good landing, as we are able to walk away from it
Thank you, Jesus.