(seventeen) or the things you don’t wanna hear on a flight

I headed back home today! Home, that is- Bryn Mawr College. Funny how names for places are so interchangeable…. I woke up this morning at 4am with a solid two hours of sleep under my belt. I tend to be super nervous before traveling anyway, and airplanes are the ultimate stressor for me. Couple extreme motion sickness with a horrible past of flying and you get me! 21 year old Angela, shaking silently as I board planes. Fortunately for me, planes are apparently safer than driving in a car. Unfortunately for me, at an altitude of 30,000 feet, nothing reasonable seems to resonate with me. I just know that I am suddenly being propelled at a zillion miles an hour between the surface of the earth and outer space and all of a sudden I begin to question life after death. Couple this existential crisis with a few bounces from turbulence and I’ve already drafted text messages dictated who gets what of my stuff.

A friend of mine told me that her uncle also has a fear of flying. He wears a bicycle helmet on planes. He says that he knows it won’t really protect him, but God wouldn’t laugh at him for trying.

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Thankfully for me, it was a pretty smooth flight. However, when the couple next to me (middle and window seat) sat down, the man leaned over to me and told me that he was sick and may need to get up during the flight. Already silently saying a rosary for the safety of the plane, I legitimately felt my blood drain my body, for I am a sympathetic puker. For those unfamiliar with the term- it means that when I see someone throw up, I feel the need to throw up. I braced myself for a long, long, long two and a half hour flight.

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But I made it! In one piece! I got to BMC alive and well and a little dehydrated but who cares?? Not me! I’m a very happy camper. Now, to do the laundry I didn’t do before the break…

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