Kethuvim

I hate it. I hate flying. It may be "the only way to travel," but I'd rather have a car, or a hovercraft...I've always wanted to ride on a hovercraft. And forget that crap about, "It's the safest way to travel." If I get in a car crash, my chances of survival are pretty great, but if I get into a plane crash at 37,000 feet, I'm done. So spare me the psycho-babble about how safe air travel really is.

Anyway, I just looked at the plane I'll be throwing up in from Indianapolis to Miami, and it's actually not a plane, it's a Cracker-Jack box with wings. Not to mention that all 21 of us are carrying at least 100 pounds worth of luggage on board. Can this stinkin' thing even get off the ground with that kind of weight.

Did anyone ever watch the A-Team? You know how they always had to trick B.A. into flying and then they would club him over the head with a wine-bottle like a defenseless Harbor Seal? That's going to be me.

I don't actually throw up on planes, I just sweat profusely and my hands get all clammy and I sit and pray, "God, keep this plane in the air. God, keep this plane in the air. God, keep this..." Come to think of it, flying may be the best thing for my prayer life.

I don't get it, I'm not usually this bad about flying. It's never been my favorite thing to do, but I've never been this aprehensive about it either. Maybe it's because I have a kid now, who knows? Maybe it's because I only fly about once every four or five years, so I'm not used to it. Maybe it's because I over-think this kind of crap. I don't know, all I know is that June 10th can't be over soon enough.