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But my therapist has been encouraging me to keep my head up, so I try to remind myself to take a look around a few times a day. Apparently, paying attention to the world around me will provide me with a ‘new perspective.’
I don’t know what she’s hoping I’ll find by watching a woman pick a wedgie then grab a French fry to put into her mouth, but I’m assuming there’s a lesson to be learned in there somewhere.
“Hi, how are you?”
The bright voice next to me has my focus shifting down the counter to the short brunette approaching the attendant standing next to Kimmy.
This woman has her dark hair in a messy knot high on her head and doesn’t look to be wearing a lick of makeup, but damn if I’m not knocked on my ass by the most breathtaking smile I’ve seen in my entire life.
If only it were directed my way.
I shake my head and let out a quiet huff of laughter at myself, wondering where in the hell that thought came from. When was the last time I hoped any woman looked my way outside of a bar?
Apparently, my little laugh wasn’t quiet enough, because the woman’s eyes flit to mine for just a second, the tiny wrinkles next to her lids crinkling slightly as she acknowledges me. Then she turns back to talk with the woman at the desk.
“Here you are, sir.”
I drag my eyes away from the brunette with the bombshell smile and look back at Kimmy. I blink once, feeling like I’ve missed something while I was staring, then take in the fact that she’s slid my new boarding pass forward on the counter.
“Thanks.” My response is quick as I retrieve the slip of paper and tuck it into my wallet.
“Absolutely. Can I do anything else for you?”
I shake my head, giving her a tight smile, and I’m turning to walk away when the brunette’s words penetrate my mind.
“…never flown before and I’m a little nervous. Is there anything really important I need to know or be prepared for?”
Her voice, while upbeat and melodic, has the hint of nerves behind it, and it takes an effort to hide my smile. I don’t think I’ve ever met an adult who has never been on a plane before. I wonder what that’s like, to enter into a situation that’s completely out of your control and totally unfamiliar.
Sounds horrible.
Truth be told, I also struggle with fear when it comes to flying. You can explain it to me a million different ways, but I still have trouble with the concept that something weighing close to 350 metric tons can just float in the air.
And yes, I know it doesn’t actually float. Obviously. But that’s what it feels like.
With the job I have working with startup tech companies and app developers across the Eastern Seaboard, though, saying I’m afraid of flying isn’t an option. So, I’ve had to suck it up and rack up those frequent flier miles.
Thankfully, it has gotten easier over the years, the gripping panic as we lift off the ground easing to more of a mild anxiousness that passes as soon as I’ve had my first drink.
And whether I’m seated in first class or not, there is always a drink when I’m flying. Because whiskey just makes everything better.
I’m lucky enough to come from a family that did a lot of traveling when I was growing up. My parents wanted us to see the world and all the differences and opportunities that exist. My sweet mother, hoping to calm my troubled mind, always had a bible verse for me when we’d fly. Blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord or He is a shield to those who put their trust in Him.
I again take a seat in the gate area and stretch my long legs out in front of me, settling back in to wait until we’re called to board.
I have no problem trusting in a higher being, whoever that is. I grew up in the church and believe in a greater plan, a God-like figure who loves us and wants us to have good lives and be good people.
What I don’t trust is human ability. We are innately fallible, and technology created by fallible humans is literally designed to be imperfect. As a person who does not enjoy the state of not being in control, I find it difficult to put complete trust in something so precarious other than myself on this great earth.
Or, I guess, in the open air.
* * *
Thirty minutes later, I’m walking down the jet bridge, first class boarding pass clutched like a lottery ticket in my hand, when my phone starts to ring. The soft notes of the familiar ringtone echo down the corridor for a few seconds as I change my jacket from one hand to the other and dig my device out of my right front pocket.
I let out a disgruntled sigh when I see the name on the screen.
Thing 1 would like to Facetime...
