8:18 am (5:18 am by my watch): Leg 1 of 5
One take off down, four to go. Brain damage free according to my examination.
The biggest problem for me is getting through the first eight minutes of the flight. They say that you suffer irreversible and deadly brain damage after depriving your brain of oxygen for seven minutes, but the fact that I’m still cognitive at this point in the flight calls that fact into question.
I hold my breath from the moment we pull out of the gate until the flight attendants serve beverages. I figure by that point, the worst is over.
There are few things in this world that I hate more than flying. Luckily for my husband, there are few things in the world I love more than him, which is why I’m on this flight in the first place.
I hate heights, I hate sitting next to strangers and I hate being seated for a long time.
And, for future reference, don’t buy your travel pillow at Walmart. It’s a neck issue waiting to happen.
I’ve already set my watch for landing time, three hours behind east coast time. This way I’ll know how much longer I have left each time I glance at my watch. It’s a sinking feeling when you look at your watch that is set for east coast time to see you are 30 minutes from landing time, only to realize that you must add 3 hours to that time to balance out the time difference.
I’m experimenting with my watch this trip to see if this will make it any more bearable. After this morning, it can only go up from here.
After a wonderfully ("romantic") weekend with one of my favorite people in the world, Rachelle Gross, I arrived at Orlando International Airport to find my checked luggage was 1.7 pounds too heavy. After removing two pounds of pistachios (requested by my hubby as a gift for a friend) my bag weighed in at exactly 50 pounds and I was good to go.
The excess weight was only the start of my packing problems. And, if you do the math, the reliability of the nut-weighing system is now called into question.
I made a huge error in judgment by packing a small “personal” item, rather than the large backpack that I could have carried. I brought a small purse-sized backpack and my gym bag, which does not have wheels.
Since the plane was full, the flight attendant (who, actually, carried my duffel bag from the security checkpoint to the gate!) strongly suggested (hear: demanded while saying please) that I check my bag because of its bulky size and the maximum capacity status of the plane.
I sat in the middle of the terminal unpacking all of my belongings that I would need for my 36-hour trip so they could check the bag itself. The bag was empty once I was carrying all of its contents.
It was only then that they finally realized that the bag’s sole purpose was to carry the entertainment (18-pounds of science books and iPod) that I would need for the five flights I’ll be taking today.
I tried to warn them; they didn't listen.
Needless to say, they let me carry it on and I had to re-pack my bag. I was the last one on the plane.
::awkward::
I’m excited for the trip, even though I know it will be a long one. The plane is bouncing like a Mexican jumping bean and I could really use a stiff drink: two parts hydrogen, one part oxygen. The flight attendants are still accompanying the beverage cart, so I think the turbulence should be fine. (Ray taught me that one.)
During takeoff, I was reminded of a verse in the Bible that talks about how perfect love casts out fear. It’s referring to the love Christ has for us, and how it is strong enough to eliminate fear, and I’m seeing that is true today: flying clear across the world by myself, doing it because I love my husband more than I’m afraid to fly.
I think it’s okay to have fears in this life; that’s what gives us our humanity. Fear only becomes dangerous when it becomes the most powerful emotion in your life. When it dictates your comings and goings and the experiences and chances you take, that’s when you stop living.
[Which I might just do if the woman to my right doesn’t stop farting]
Four hours left by my count… time to jump into the first two pounds of my entertainment.