I used to be a good flier. I relished turbulence.
Then the kids arrived. Thoughts of fiery ends entered to play. My brain has this tendency to come up with elaborate totally impossible scenarios involving my flight and my demise. Thus, the end of the entire universe.
For some reason as soon as we take off, my brain goes into overdrive on scenarios. Like, why did I take a seat in the emergency row? If this fucker goes down, I am totally grabbing the bitch next to me and using her as a flotation device. Shit. We’re not over water. Okay, so if I die, will Alec get enough from insurance to live on for a while? Enough to get a girlfriend? He better keep a picture of me up somewhere in the house. But he’ll have dead wife money to throw at the eligible punani. AND he’s getting grey in his beard so some skank out there will mistake that for “distinguished” and suddenly my kids are calling some 23 year old poorly educated former Hooters worker “mommy” and Alec will be thrilled because he’ll have less laundry to do because she doesn’t wear underwear.
And then I’ll cry, right there in the middle of my 1/2 glass of apple juice, because my death turned Alec into a dirty old man and the kids’ new mommy makes Heidi Montag look like a neurosurgeon. And I’ll attribute the tears to the movie I’m watching, which people will believe because it’s an Ashton Kutcher flick.
My last flight had me contemplating those little, blue, under the tongue pills that Statler thinks are her sleeping pills. God bless her doctor.
But the flight I’m getting on tomorrow will not just have me on it, but Alec & Emmy too. Um, I can’t be “medicated” when I’m responsible for another human. Yeah, Alec will be there, but I won’t be a beacon of reassurance to Emmy, who’s also shown signs of nervousness, if I’m drooling on my backpack singing “If I Could Turn Back Time”. In French. I do amazing things while medicated.
So I have to suck it up. Right? I’m really hoping having Emmy there (who doesn’t know I’m secretly freaking out) will be just the distraction I need to focus on to keep me from resuming the fetal position.
I should probably lay off the coffee tomorrow.