By Leslie Senevey
As much as I love going places, I hate the travel part of travel — the planning, the packing, the “are we there yet?” and the schlep of it all. More than anything, though, I find flying is the most daunting. Forget AI advances. I’m ready for teleportation.
I can handle the delays, airport indignities, security lines, obnoxious passengers (I draw the line at bare feet on a plane, though), and being squeezed in like sardines. What I have trouble with is putting my life in someone else’s hands while flouting the laws of gravity.
I am a white knuckler who clutches the armrest at every bump and sway. I know there are all kinds of science-y reasons why planes stay airborne and how they’re safer than cars and blah, blah, blah, but it will never feel comfortable to me to be hurtling through the sky thousands of feet off the ground in a narrow metal tube.
I realize this is the price we must pay to explore far-flung locations. One time, though, my fellow passengers were the ones who paid the price.
Years ago, on the way to New Orleans for my cousin’s wedding, the flight attendants had just served us when the plane suddenly dropped straight down as if a cloud had been pulled out from under us like the proverbial rug.
I watched the drinks on our tray tables stay exactly where they were as the ceiling came down to the drinks. It was raining soda instantly, then the plane dropped again and started violently shaking. Our seats were over the wings, which were flapping up and down like a duck heading south for the winter — like alllll the way south.
I looked from the window to the aisle, seeking reassurance from the flight attendants, hoping their “business as usual” attitudes would quell my rising terror. I was momentarily confused to see their carts where they had been only seconds before, now unmanned, only to realize they were LYING FLAT ON THE FLOOR LIKE ROADKILL ON I-30.
I didn’t know much about flight attendant protocol, but I figured that this was definitely not a good sign. A peaceful calm washed over me in the moments I truly thought we were going down, if by peaceful calm you mean fear and panic rising from the bottom of my feet to the top of my head like the waves swallowing the sinking Titanic. I gripped my husband’s hand like it was the last life vest in the churning water.
I braced for impact, berating myself for zoning out during the flight attendant’s “what to do if we plummet toward earth” demonstration. Then, as suddenly as it had started, the shaking and dropping stopped.
The flight attendants peeled themselves off the floor and began handing out dry-cleaning vouchers to those of us drenched by the downpour. Then the captain announced that we had accidentally gone through a storm system.
Seems akin to “accidentally” driving your car into a swimming pool, but okay, Captain. As my soul oozed back into my body and my husband shook out his now swollen hand, I turned to him and said, “Oh my God, that was so scary, and everyone was screaming!”
“That was you,” he said. “You were the only one screaming.”
Whatever. I was just vocalizing what everyone else was feeling.
I’d like to say I’ve gotten much better about flying since that time it rained inside the plane, but I’m not a liar. Still, I keep traveling because I like to go places. Now that spring has sprung, your thoughts may have turned toward travel, too.
In Texas, spring means bluebonnets, hay fever, and the possibility of either hail, tornadoes, triple-digit temperatures, or all three at once. It’s also time for Spring Break when hordes of families set out for sunny beaches, snowy slopes, and other locales near and far.
Other than a couple of relatively tame trips in college (although somewhere there exists a photo of me sporting a huge sombrero while taking a tequila shot in Mexico), Spring Break hasn’t been a big deal to me.
During our kids’ school days, we never had any desire to take a trip during one of the busiest travel times of the year, when everything’s extra crowded and extra costly. Plus, at that point in the school year, we were always ready for do-nothing downtime.
In general, though, travel is always a good idea. Besides being recreational, it’s also mind- broadening, world-expanding, and often life-changing. There’s no better way to learn about other cultures or customs than being immersed in them. Whether it’s a destination down the road or across the ocean, there’s always something new to discover. Sometimes, however, the adventure is in the actual “getting there” part, especially if you happen to find yourself on the same flight as me.