Terror

My husband recently won a prestigious award at work.  He will receive the award this week and I am brimming with pride for this great accomplishment.

I am also terrified.

You see, the award is being presented in another city.  One thousand miles away from our home.  We'll be flying there.

Those who know me well know that I hate to fly.  The thought of boarding what is essentially tin can and zooming at hundreds of miles per hour miles above the earth terrorizes me to the core.  I board every airplane with known certainty that it will crash.

And while I have never been a fan of flying, since having children it has gone from a dislike to phobic levels.  Miss J is just ten years old.  She is entering adolescence and needs me now more than ever.  And M.  Who would want M and love and care for him like I do if I died?  What kind of mother takes such a known risk when staying safely on the ground is an option?

I gave this some thought.

"I'm sorry hun, but I am not sure I can go with you" I told Mr. A.
He immediately recognized my attempt at a cop out and called me on it.
"Why not?"
"Well, you know....I just started my job not too long ago and I really shouldn't take the time off."
"You can ask, though."

I presented the situation to my boss who gave me a wide smile and granted me the time off without question.

Planning this trip has been a nightmare for Mr. A.  He called me from work with our travel plans.  He had a flight for us, leaving at 9am the morning of the award ceremony.

"What kind of plane is it?"  I asked him.
He paused. "It's an express jet."
"No.  That won't do.  Too small.  We need another plane. Is there a bigger plane?"
"The only other plane leaves before 6am.  We'd have to be at the airport before 5am."
"If it is bigger, we can take the early flight."

Moments later, he called me back.  He'd booked the flight.
"I was able to get us into business class" he said happily.
"In the middle of the plane?"
"Yes, the middle."
"You know I like the back."
I like the back of the plane.  That way I can see the entire plane in front of me.  The flight crew hangs out in the rear and I like knowing they are nearby. In my illogical fear, this makes perfect sense to me.
"Well, I already booked the middle."
(My mental wheels are already turning to see how I can manage to get myself moved to the back.)

I have been paying close attention to my body, just to check if I might be coming down with something.  Perhaps a fever or flu that would ground me. Aside from nerves making me want to toss my lunch, I feel perfectly fine.

My dear friend called to ask if I was excited for the trip (which coincides with our 14th wedding anniversary.).  I told her I was scared to death.

"Oh relax!"  She chided me.  "You're going to have such a great time!  I'm so happy for you!"
"I hope I don't die."
"You aren't going to die."
"How can you say that?"  I questioned.
"Really.  You won't die.  I promise.  Just take Benedryl before you get on the plane and take a nap."

I happened to be walking into the pharmacy to pick up a prescription while I was on the phone with her.  I got my medication and asked the pharmacist how much Benedryl I could take at once without killing myself.  Perhaps enough to put me in a roughly two hour coma.

I feel for Mr.A...I feel for him for having a wife who dampens his excitement with her fear of flying (actually, I don't fear flying. It is crashing that I fear.)  I feel bad that he must constantly reassure me that I won't die. I am hoping I can psyche myself up and get over myself so that Mr.A and I can enjoy this wonderful award, in a beautiful city and also celebrate our anniversary.

So if you would kindly send a few prayers and good vibes and well wishes my way, I would greatly appreciate it.