Monday, November 7, 2011

Fly me to the moon

The thought of flight always makes me a little uneasy. I am one of those people who has a whole lot working against them when it comes to flying. I truly envy people who can nonchalantly get on a plane and travel without all sorts of worries, fears and maladies that I am inflicted with.

I have been flying for most of my life. Piloting sort of runs in my family. I have several uncles who are pilots and my grandfather was a pilot. In fact my grandfather used to say that if he ever got a terminal disease, he would rent a little twin engine plane and fly it into the side of a mountain so he could die doing what he loved. Ironically he was killed in a car crash, but they had to take him on a medichopper to the hospital, and we all like to think he died during the flight.

Still with all this piloting in my blood, and probably 50 flights under my belt, I still do not fly easily. I fly very poorly. In fact flying for me is a rather unpleasant adventure any way you look at it.

First off I am terrified of heights. This is actually one of the more minor problems. If I can sit on the aisle it doesn't bother me as much, and once we hit a certain altitude I am alright with looking out the window. In fact as long as the plane isn't tilting to the side while I am looking, I am mostly alright with it. I have never had any sort of debilitating panic attack while flying. Thankfully.

My next issue is an issue of comfort. I am not a small woman. For starters I am 5'10" and am mostly made of leg. Long legs + airplane seats = cramped up. No tall person is ever comfortable on a plane. I think I was ten the last times my legs fit comfortably in that space. Of course I am also on the chunky side. Now granted I am significantly smaller than I was the last time I flew, but I am still not going to be comfortable.

Also the husbeast is huge. No seriously, he is huge. He stands 6'6" and is so broad at the shoulders that on a smaller plane, if he stands to his full height, he has to bend his head down to where his neck touches the ceiling, and his shoulders press in against the overhead compartments enough to make them bow in. I mean the man has a gut on him (because I am a good cook) but he is a power lifter people. His doctor even said that for him to hit his BMI he would have to amputate a leg. He has really big legs.

So needless to say that he does not quite fit in an airplane seat and never will. Typically we solve this issue by having him sit on the aisle and me next to him so I am the only person being crushed. Still riding for any length of time in whatever contortionist position we come up with, is super uncomfortable.

Thankfully flight attendants love the husbeast because he is so incredibly charismatic, and he makes them feel incredibly safe. Because of this we always get treated incredibly well while flying. It takes some of the stress off of the event.

Unfortunately there is one more thing that makes flying a nightmare for me. I suffer from vertigo. I can literally make myself motion sick in my desk chair. I am not even joking. I eat Dramamine like it is candy, and it does not always work. No one likes a sick person on a plane, but let me tell you, the sick person likes it even less.

Most of the time Dramamine, the air vents all on full blast on my face, and some water will keep me from losing my complimentary peanuts on someone. Most of the time is not all of the time sadly. Also, even if I don't yak up my guts, the general feeling of being motion sick is miserable. Feeling that bad, in a tiny medal tube, being crushed by the husbeast, and in general terrified of being so far from the ground makes for a not pleasant experience.

Thankfully this flight is a little less than an hour. I will have just enough time to get queasy and start to panic as my legs spasm before we land.

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