A story about a plane.

I have had two days off in a row from school because the temperature has been ridiculously low and, considering I took Friday off because I felt like crap, it seems a long time since I've actually worked. Fortunately, I've read like a mother-trucker, and today's book was, Traveling Mercies, by Anne Lamott. It was a wonderful book. Read it.

Anyway, she writes about this one time she was about to fly on a plane and it made me think of me when I fly on planes, which then reminded me of a story, but I'll tell Anne's first...

"My idea of everything going smoothly on an airplane is (a) that I not die in a slow-motion fiery crash or get stabbed to death by terrorists and (b) that none of the other passengers try to talk to me. All conversation should end at the moment the wheels leave the ground."

Amen, I say.

So, it reminded me of this time that I was flying back from London and I didn't get a seat next to any of my friends so I was freaking out. You have to keep in mind that this was not too long after my family and I had had the horrendous flight back from Costa Rica (ignore the unintentionally conceited name drops of foreign countries...) that scarred me for years after and which I am still dealing with, but in ways different from how I dealt with it on this particular London flight.

SO! (Here's where Ry, Pat, or Tim would say "Get to the freaking point!" and I'm working on this edge of my personality so shut it. ;)

ANYWAY, so I'm on this overseas flight and I'm sitting next to some middle aged man, and I'm thinking similar to Anne Lamott, "Please just everybody stop talking. I have to singlehandedly keep this damn plane up by my own mindpower and it's HARD to DO when you all are making me LOSE my FOCUS!"

And so, when the plane takes off, I grab the middle aged man, seat-stranger's hand. It was an impulse.

In an effort to make an awkward situation less awkward, (because I realized quickly that I was so scared that I was not going to be able to let GO of his hand), I told him briefly how I was petrified. So we got to be best friends and he let me sleep and ordered me dinner and let me just sit there holding his hand for dear life the whole time. Sort of like a stranger-dad.

So, nearing the end of the flight, (fortunately, because napping and relaxing is hard when you've got a whole jet full of people dependent upon you for keeping that massive amount of metal in the air), he stands up and gets something out of the overhead compartment. Turns out, it's this surprisingly cute teddy bear, (I'm not much of a teddy bear girl), with a blue sweater on that has the name of his company embroidered on it. He tells me that he's bringing a bunch back for presents for friends and family, and that I should have one for making it through the flight. I still have it- it's sitting behind me on my guest bed. It's still cute. So I say thank-you and by now the plane is landing and I tell him how grateful I am and we say our good-byes and debark.

Then, I meet my parents in the airport, there to welcome me home, and tell them the story. "Well," says my dad with a smirk, "I'd be that nice, too, if I had some hot young girl sit next to me and hold my hand. I'm gonna start bringing teddy bears on my flights too!"

It sort of ruined the mood, but I love my dad anyway.