so i don't know when this started - maybe landing in indy in the middle of a thunderstorm, maybe on september 11, but i have turned into a really bad flyer.
i love airports. i love the hustle, the controlled (for the most part) chaos. i love watching planes land and take off. i know there's a theorem to it all, but it completely mystifies me that we've figured out a way to get a piece of metal that ways thousands of tons off the ground and keep it in the air for hours and hours. i could do nothing all day except watch planes land and take off, especially jumbo jets, because apparently i'm a five year old boy. but i hate flying. i hate take off the most, that horrible feeling watching the ground slowly float away, as the plane shakes for the first time going up in the clouds. i hate the silence as the plane is descending, and then the sudden pops as gadgets and mechanics start working to get the plane on the ground. i hate the unknown of it all, the sheer hopelessness and helplessness if anything went wrong. and i hate - i really hate - how even though there are thousands of flights every day all around the world, i can't help but think about those 'what-ifs'.
maybe what i hate the most is i have to fly if i want to get to places i want to go. sure, i could drive to arizona...if i had three days to kill. but i can't drive to ukraine to visit olesia. i can't drive to russia to fulfill a lifelong dream of mine. and i really can't drive to china to adopt that baby girl several years down the road.
when i flew to europe last year, it was really scary for me, and also incredibly annoying that i couldn't stretch my legs except when i went to the bathroom. my dad, who flies all the time for his job, gave me melatonin, which didn't put me to sleep, but did take the fear away. i know i'll have to fly again, with fear in my heart and melatonin in my stomach. and for all the worries, it was worth it to see london and paris...and even more to get home safe.