The Red Shirt Diaries #14

I’m waiting at Redmond Airport in Central Oregon for my flight home.  I’m flying home from my family vacation and was reflecting on my growing dis-ease with flying.  It seems the more flights I successfully complete, the more worried I get about becoming too cocky before boarding any subsequent flights.

My palms are actually clammy right meow.

I’m reminded of something I said to my sister when she invited me to go on a rafting trip with her and her family.

I told her that I didn’t want to die with a bunch of strangers.  Further, that I didn’t want to be the only one on the rafting trip to die because I was worried they would all judge me for being weak.  My exact words escape me, but it was something along the lines of, “It’s not like a plane crash, where I die with a bunch of strangers…because we ALL die in that scenario!”

Somehow, that makes it a smudge better, although still far from preferable.

Seriously, though…remember Western Airlines ad campaign from way back?

The Only Way to Fly!

I’m just pointing out that “fly” rhymes with…yeah.  So there.

Then again, as I rode with my parents over the twisty highways across the state at the outset of this too-short vacation, I reminded them of the same trip during my formative years that we witnessed a crashed car being recovered from a ravine.

They didn’t recall.

I did.

For some morbid reason, I took this picture on the drive over.

It’s steeper than it looks, but there’s really no shoulder.

To recap…can’t drive over to Oregon’s beautiful high desert without facing unlikely doom nor can I fly home without the same.  There’s really no pleasing my neuroses.

I had to pause and board my puddle jumper home.  The cute ground crew dude was a temporary distraction…until I realized he kinda held my fate in his hands.

It’s been a bumpy flight.  Hard to believe that I used to find puddle jumpers exhilarating.  

There was a flight I took from Houston to New Orleans for Mardi Gras about…lemme see, it had to be 27 years ago?  Yeah, we flew that bitch right through some crazy southern storm.  Rain, wind…the plane at one point experienced at least a sudden 10-15 foot drop during the flight.

People were barfing and holding their loved ones while I laughed and laughed and laughed.

Maybe my dis-ease with flying is just karmic retribution.

I’m putting the issue aside for now, I’ve just bounced down at PDX…safely on the ground, once again.

The Red Shirt Diaries #14

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