Every time I take off or land in an airplane my prayer goes something like this: “Hail Mary full of grace the Lord is with thee.  Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.  Holy Mary Mother of God pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death amen and please don’t let the hour of my death be right now.”  Look I know all about the physics of flight.  My brother has been flying since he was a teen.  My nephew, the same.  I get it.  The terrifying bouncing and dipping and rising is just like waves on the ocean.  Air has mass, more likely to get killed walking across the street blah blah blah.  I’m really not that afraid to fly, I just am more nervous now that I’m older, more aware of…never mind.  I still have one more leg of this journey.

Al flew in for the reunion to Midway airport when we were under tornado watch until 1 a.m.  Had I endured what he did flying in, I probably wouldn’t be here to write this, having had a heart attack or something.   Haven’t I already told you about flying to Alaska and me deciding when the plane suddenly dropped oh, say, a foot and a half, that I really did like him after all and that he would surely save me if I only jumped on his lap?

I’m in the Vegas airport right now.  Oh my goodness, that’s a whole ‘nother blog, isn’t it?  Step away from the slot machines.  Step away from the slot machines.  But…it’s a Wheel of Fortune machine screaming at me.  Just kidding, at least for now.  I have one hour to kill before my next flight.  It might snare me yet.  The smell of cheap perfume and stale alcohol breath and lack of showering (both me and others at this point) is enough to knock you out.

I write, though,  because tonight, both taking off and landing, a three year old little boy behind me was not muttering the above prayer under his breath, he was giggling and saying “wheee!”  over and over again.  Every dip, every bounce, every side-to-side wave of the wings was met with Disneyland delight from this little future aviator.  It made me pause.  What if I change my irrational fear into that childlike joy?  I mean, really, what does my fear accomplish?  Takes a few years off my life I’m sure.  It does not help send vibes of confidence to the pilot, nor does it help her fly the plane better, knowing that I, apparently unlike her and everybody else on board,  would prefer to get to where I’m going safely.

So that’ s my new plan.  My plane leaves in about an hour, we’ll see how it goes.  I probably will still say the Hail Mary, but I’m kinda liking the “wheeee!” idea in general.  It was the cutest little voice you ever heard.

Wheeee!