Flying didn’t used to be a problem, but several years ago, this changed.  There was nothing dramatic; no scary experience on a particular flight that led me to kiss the ground upon disembarking.  No brush with death that made me vow to never board a plane again.  But for some reason, the older I’ve gotten, the harder it has become.

I think it may have something to do with ignorance because as they say, ignorance truly is bliss.  I remember when I was 16 and took my first flight from Virginia to Georgia, I was excited and full of anticipation.  I reveled in the feel of the plane lifting into the air and the sound of the wheels being retracted.  Landing was just as fun with the screech of the tires and the forward momentum as my body strained against its seatbelt before it came to a rest. 

I think I was too naive to understand that these procedures, which are such a part of flying, actually defy the laws of nature.  I could be wrong, but doesn’t the law of gravity say that what comes up must come down?  I guess the problem is the matter in which it comes down.

It doesn’t help that every time a crash occurs, I gravitate to the TV and I watch for reports of survivors.  I want to believe that the best can happen, that people can survive those horrible incidents.  It gives me hope that I, too, will survive should something happen.  It also helps me to believe the statistics that claim flying is safer than driving.  I’m still not sure I believe that, but I’m willing to go on a little faith.

Which is exactly what I’m doing right now as I sit in my seat, 35,000 feet above the ground, typing out this post.  I wasn’t going to write a post while in the air, but I quickly realized that it is the best source of distraction.  We just made it through some “rough air” as they say and now we can finally “move about the cabin.”  Not that there’s anywhere to go, but it’s nice to know that there’s an option.

Hopefully, if you are reading this, it means that we are safely on the ground.  It means that I survived the four hour flight with little physical damage (I can’t say the same about emotional damage unfortunately).  It also means that I am in Salt Lake City, Utah.

So today, Friday, I am particularly grateful to be alive, to be safe and sound, and best of all – to be back on the ground.

Do you enjoy flying?  If not, any tricks that help you?