Flying

I hate flying. I especially hate flying over an ocean. I especially hate flying without close friends or family. I will be doing all of these things in 2 days, and I'm really not looking forward to it.

A discomfort with a situation has quickly manifested itself into a full-blown phobia. Great. I'm trying to be as excited as I should be about visiting France for the first time and spending 5 weeks in a completely different culture, living with a foreign family, and not knowing anyone. Unfortunately, when I start thinking about these exciting new experiences, my brain stop before then and only focuses on the long plane ride across the large Atlantic on the airline that claimed the lives of over 200 people just a few weeks ago.

I used to love flying as a kid. We used to go to Florida every other year as well as random other places on vacation, and it never really bothered me. My dad was in the Air Force forever ago and used to have his pilot's license so I always felt pretty comfortable since he was. Well then I wised up. I stopped flying as much, therefore becoming less comfortable. Oh yeah and then that little incident on 9/11/01 happened. My next couple of flights after that were more nerve-wracking than fun, and when I went to New York 2 summers ago, I was pretty nervous. But even when I was completely OK with flying, I was never OK with the idea of flying over a freaking ocean. I guess it doesn't matter where you fly. Either way, you're dead. But the whole idea still freaks me out. It didn't help when the AirFrance plane went down in that same ocean recently.

Yes, I know the statistics. 1 in 11 million. Yes, I know it's more dangerous to ride in a car. Yes, I know that I'm being a baby. But I can't help it. It's a phobia, which is an irrational fear. Getting on that plane is going to be the hardest thing I've done in a long time.

Good thing I got tons of sedatives to numb my mind. At least if the plane crashes, I'll be blissfully unaware of my death.