Craig and I were sitting out on the deck last night after Devan went to bed, enjoying the new deck lighting and a million fireflies. Our talk drifted to dreams of a vacation, a tropical getaway in January to celebrate our wedding anniversary. And we discussed locations and mulled over details and I confessed I was motivated to choose a destination that involves minimal air time because my fear of flying has gotten worse over the years. And we discussed all the recent plane crashes that have been in the news and I stated I couldn’t think of a worse way to die than to fall out of the sky.
We came in around 10:00 and I checked CNN before heading to bed, only to see the breaking news of a Yemeni flight with 153 people on board crashing into the ocean.
Maybe I am reading to much into this, but it seems like the universe is encouraging me to keep my feet on the ground. I don’t know though, Branson doesn’t have the same appeal as Puerto Vallarta in January. Maybe with enough drugs in my system I can cope for just a few hours. But then again, every time I fly I swear I will never do it again. I know it doesn’t make sense and the statistics say it is safe, but when they latch that cabin door and I am then trapped, well I am just a nervous wreck until I am safe in the terminal.
It’s just really too bad Kansas isn’t driving distance from the Caribbean.