Flying

September 30, 2011; 8:40PM

For someone who travels as much as I seem to, you'd think I would be better at flying.

We are on a little two seat, per side plane, that seems to be hitting speed bumps in the sky like a little kid learning how to skateboard; hitting every pebble on the sidewalk. Not a fan.

After 7 hours at Denver International, we are finally on our plane. An hour delay, and several extra beers later (not within that hour, I mean overall) we are finally on our way to LA. I am pretty much horrified at the fact that I still need to land three more times, and take off two more times, before I get to be still and not have to worry about my somewhat recently acquired phobia.

As I look around the cabin everyone seems to be totally ok with the fact that we are popping around left and right in the air. Although, after all these miles I have covered in the sky, I know I don't have to worry until they call of the beverage service, so far we are all good.

It does make it worth it though, when you get the chance to look out the window and see the world in a steady calm that seems so unlike the reality on the ground. Little villages of light tucked into blackness below, and random stars above that have led explorers in the past and are there to remind you that it will all be alright. With the steady pace of music in my ear and my eyes closed tight I will eventually wake to find that it is indeed all over, and I am standing on the continent that so few have, and that I have dreamt about for so long.