Bumps on a Road

"Bumps on a road, bumps on a road, bumps on a road."

That's what I tell myself every time I fly through turbulence because one time Tiffany told me that turbulence is just like "bumps on a road." Her dad is a pilot and so this, in theory, should make me feel better. After all, it comes from someone who knows someone who knows.

But it only works for a few minutes. Then, I remember:

"Holy sh*t, there is no road. I'm six miles up in the air."

I have to fly a lot. That's what happens when you live far away from your family. You'd think I'd get more comfortable flying, but I don't (I also don't like the smell of airplanes, but in comparison to bumps on the road, this seems like small potatoes). Every time I fly, I say the same prayer and promise I'll do something with my life (like blog!) if whoever's up there lets me keep living it.

Last week, Tiffany and I flew to New Orleans to meet my family and friends for Thanksgiving. On the way there, we hit a lot of turbulence. After a few minutes, the pilot cheerfully came on and told us that, although traffic control had recommended he fly around the hail storm raging below us, he thought it had subsided enough to go on through it and keep us on schedule.

My heart sunk to my stomach. My palms, already sweaty, became sweatier.

"We should be through it in about 20 minutes," the pilot breezed, signing off.

Whenever Tiffany and I are traveling together and hit bumps on the road in the air, she reaches over to take my hand. This makes me feel better and worse. It makes me feel better that Tiffany--who I always find out later was also nervous--is calm enough to think about helping me stay calm. It makes me feel worse because it reminds me that holding hands with the one I love just means I have a one to lose in case of a cr-sh (it feels safer to not spell that word out).

Anyway, our flight back home to San Francisco was a little better. But we hit a few bumps on the road about 30 minutes before we landed. I was handling this okay until the flight attendant got on the intercom and said:

"Remember, in case of an emergency landing, your seat can be used as a flotation device."

Tiffany grabbed my hand.

But fortunately, I was too angry to be scared.

"What the f*ck?" I whispered to Tiffany. "They never say that at the end of the flight!"

I was so distracted trying to find the flight attendant in question to give her a dirty look that I hardly even noticed as we flew over all the bumps. Then we landed.

I found the flight attendant on my way out the door. But I only thanked her. It seems silly to hold a grudge once you're on the ground.*

*This picture is one we took from the window of our plane on our way to Vietnam. Thank god there weren't many bumps in the road on that lo-o-o-n-g flight.