Our last episode ended with me conquering the shiny, systematic airport jungle and standing at the feet of a beast — I mean airplane. The two and a half hours I sat waiting for my flight passed in a single gesture of me looking down at my phone and looking back up. I blinked and suddenly it was 5:55AM. The blank-faced attendant standing at the desk in front of the doors that separated me from one of my worst fears began calling out groups.
I knew my group would be last; I was flying economy and did not know how terrible it would be. (Instead of worrying about sitting in a giant, flying machine that had the propensity to become a death-trap, I should have been worried about my lower back and the leg cramps that were soon to ensue.)
Suddenly, I heard my group being called and shot up out of my chair. I had skipped eating for fear I’d have to venture into the airplane restroom, and I was glad I did because the moment I stood up, my empty stomach churned. My whole body broke out into a cold sweat, and anxiety pinched my chest.
“Oh my God,” I thought. “I cannot believe I am about to do this.”
Every step I took toward those doors was accompanied with a prayer. “God, I’m sorry for what I yesterday, the day before and this morning — please, don’t let this plane crash!”
I remember stepping foot into the plane and pausing, looking around like this shit was a movie. Really though, I had only ever seen a plane in movies and TV. Never did I imagine I’d be riding in one, much less, riding in one alone.
I quickly found my seat (deep in the economy section, 25B to be exact, right in the middle) and sat down. I did’t even wait for the others in my row to join me before I strapped on my seatbelt, tight enough to constrict my blood circulation and held onto the armrests for dear life (as if those joints would really save me, were something tragic to happen).
(Pictured above is me, on my first plane ride. Regretting every decision I have ever made.)
I thought that bad boy was about to immediately float into the air, like 0 gravity or something. But no. The torture had just begun. See, what I did not know was that it takes about 15–20 minutes to get everyone in and seated and another 15 to start ascending. So, I had a good half hour to sit there somewhere in between fearful prayer and miserable regret.
Eventually, though, everyone was seated (I had a free seat on each side of me, which gave me more privacy to drown in my mental anguish and anxiety). As long as those 30 minutes or so felt, it was not enough time for me to wrap my head around how this big ole’ thing going to safely get me from one piece of sky to the next.
An hour and a half of praying, shaking and finally relaxing later, we landed in Miami. And that damn airport — that was a whole other beast. Until next time though, I hope you’ve enjoyed laughing at what a noob I am at traveling.
