That means that tomorrow’s Friday. After that comes Saturday, and then I’ll be living in agony for all of Father’s Day. It’s ridiculous that I let airplane rides take this much control of my life, but I have a hard time letting it all go. I tend to be a wound up person as it is–I worry about things I have no control over.
Plane rides epitomize that flaw in my character.
What if the bus is delayed? What if the plane is rerouted and I miss my connection? What if I go on the wrong day? What if my kids get really sick? What if I’m looking for a bathroom, I can’t find it, and my bladder explodes? (Bonus points to you if you can name the movie that last quote is from.) I know this is all silly, and I usually only do it around travel time–and only with planes.
It’s not like when I’m going for a ride in my car I’m always worrying about things. What if a moose attacks me? What if the gas tank explodes? There are plenty of silly, unlikely things I can worry about. But I don’t–until it’s time for the plane. I think the big problem is that there are so few options with plane travel. You miss a bus, you take the next one. Your car breaks down, you call a tow truck. You have some control over your destiny. Not so with planes. They can cancel your flight, delay you, reroute you, lose your baggage–make your life miserable. And there’s not really anything you can do about it. Isn’t that a comforting thought?
I think that’s enough writing about my nerves for one day. Sigh.