Flying

The first time I remember being on a plane I was 7 or 8. I was flying to Philadelphia with my Grandma. It was exciting and scary. The only thing I knew about flying was what I saw in movies, namely Home Alone. When the flight attendant came by I got a sprite and felt very adult. Very worldly. I didn't eat the peanuts. I couldn't stomach nuts of any kind until I was 25.

My favorite part was the take-off and landing. It still is. The power, the speed, the danger. During those moments I always think about the plane crashing. Not in a morbid or desirous way, but in a damage-control crisis-management type of way. How I would operate in the event of a disaster. The options, avenues, and procedures.

Around the time of my first flight I listened to this book-on-tape Flight #116 is Down. Its about a plane that crashes on the property of this 16 year-old girl while her parents are out of town. She steps up and helps to handle the emergency.

I've flown once or twice a year since that first time. And I look forward to that feeling of bizarre calm I get form those brief moments of peril that bookend each flight.