I don't know if I've mentioned before that I am not a good traveler. I just flat out don't like it. I like being home. I don't like long car trips. I especially don't like flying. Ooooh boy, no, I don't like that. I was actually 40+ years old before I even got on a plane. I had never lived anywhere that was actually an easily accessible option and I didn't know anyone that I would fly to see. So...didn't need to conquer that fear, thank you very much.
Then I moved to the Dallas area from the panhandle. Some of the people I hold closest to my heart are in the panhandle. I'm here. They are there. I can drive 6 hours to go see them. Or I can drive 45 minutes to Love Field and get to Amarillo in 50 minutes. I still have to drive a couple of hours to get to my friends - but I'm way ahead of the ball game if I climb on board that flying death trap. So one day, armed with a prescription for two fairly potent little pills from the good doctor I walked onto a Southwest jet and flew to Amarillo. Amazingly enough I got there. And it was so fast!! Slowly I began to manage the dread (and without drugs I might add!). As long as it's Southwest and preferably within an hour of home I manage it just fine now. I don't know that I'll ever be perfectly comfortable - but I'm not a total basket case anymore either.
SO this weekend was the Fiftieth wedding anniversary of these people and I absolutely had to be there. I didn't think too much about it as I purchased the tickets for my oldest son and myself, just looked forward to being with a family I love dearly. The closer to departure date we got the more nervous I became because they were predicting wintry-like precipitation. Morning of the flight dawned cold but no snow/rain/sleet. I'm thinking it's going to be okay. We needed to be at the airport by 8:30 a.m. at the very latest and didn't. By about 15 minutes. I had decided to check my luggage because of the liquid restrictions and that whole hassle. We loaded our luggage onto the little platform and alarm bells started ringing and a computer voice begins calling out "Late Check In!! Late Check In!" That does nothing at all for my rising anxiety. We line up to go through the security checkpoint, along with at least half of the population of the DFW metroplex. I'm eyeing the clock and thinking "AUGH!! What are we doing to do if we miss our flight?" It's my turn and I stick my purse in the bucket along with my shoes and walk through the gate. All's well. Oops. No it's not. "BAG CHECK PLEASE, BAG CHECK!" "Step over here ma'am we're going to have to open your purse." A small trial size tube of Mary Kay hand lotion. He gives me a talking to and I'm nodding yes sir, yes sir all the time thinking "We're going to miss our flight! Take the lotion if you want, just let me go!" Then we are off.
Just to maximize my anxiety the flight devils arranged for our gate to be the very last one. We have got to run. I don't mean walk fast. I mean we have to run. About the time we rounded the corner of gates 4, 5 & 6 I'm thinking to myself "let there be an EMT in this crowd because I just may well keel over." I can see our gate on the horizon...I do mean horizon and I can see Matt in the distance as well. To get my mind off my breathless panting I tried diverting my thoughts and it occured to me, “Great! I’m not going to have time to buy a magazine and what am I going to divert my completely unrealistic but terror-filled thoughts with now?” This was followed quickly by the realization that I really, really needed to go to the bathroom and there wasn’t time. We got to the gate to see the tail end of our “A” group walking down the concourse. Whew. We'd made it. I’ve never been on an airplane bathroom before but I just really don’t think I’m going to be able to make it all the way to Amarillo. I ask Matt if he’s ever been on one before. He says “Once. I threw up all over that thing.”
We find a row where he can sit by the window and I can sit by the aisle. I begin nervously rummaging through the seat pocket because I know I’m going to have to look at something or I’ll start thinking about being thousands of feet up in the air. Just as nerve racking to me is the fact that I am in an enclosed area and I CANNOT GET OUT. I'm stuck with a copy of “Sky Mall” but it's something. Then to just really cap off the experience the pilot comes on the speaker and ratchets up the anxiety level several notches: “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard Southwest Flight 1452. We are going to have turbulent weather today and so will not be turning off the seatbelt signs. You will not be allowed to get up to use the restrooms and our flight attendants will not be serving drinks. We do apologize but it’s for your safety that we ask you to remain buckled in for the entirety of the trip today.” Oh good grief. Turbulent weather. No magazine. Can’t use the bathroom. Can it get any worse? My prayers became a little more urgent and a whole lot more streamlined. “Please, please, please let us get there, Lord.” I'm here to tell you it worked, internet peoples! We got to 35,000 feet and the pilot came on again and said “It looks like it’s going to be much smoother than anticipated and while we ask you to keep your seat belts on if you don’t need to move about, you can use the restrooms and our flight attendants will be moving through the aisles to take your drink orders. I looked down the aisle to see the bathroom available and bolted. I am only 5’3” and while I could stand to lose 20 pounds I’m not large. I don’t know how anyone of any size at all could fit into that tiny closet. But fit in I did. Just as I sat myself down on that little airplane port-a-potty we hit a patch of turbulence.
I did not holler out loud because I just would not do that. That would just be too embarrassing! But my honest to goodness thoughts were “Oh NO!!! I’m going to meet my Lord with my pants down.”
And that is my story of Southwest Flight 1452.
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