Cruising at an unknown altitude between Atlanta and Melbourne, Florida, I look out the window and see the fluffy tops of clouds. Such a lovely view! There is an ocean of fluffiness as far as the horizon.
I have taken that HUGE (for me) step of faith and checked my very cute and sharp Kershaw knife, walked down the jetway into the small puddle-jumper, strapped myself into the too-small seat and given up control of myself and my environment in an effort to be reunited with my heart which Rocket Man has taken to Cocoa Beach with him!
As an aside, I feel duty bound to tell you about the man in front of me on the first flight. He got into his seat, buckled in and within about 45 seconds was sound asleep and snoring so loudly that people several seats behind me were laughing. This over all the noise of the aircraft and the announcements over the intercom system. It was pretty doggone funny
Anyway, the only sliver of control I possess is the choice of beverage (I'll take a Co-Cola, thank you so much) and the choice of music on my very pink iPod shuffle. Freddie Mercury makes me smile, wondering if anybody can find him somebody to love. Elton John declares that losing everything is like the sun going down on him. Rascal Flatts assures me that I can lean on them and Carole King is feeling like a natural woman.
The music diverts my attention from the bumpy ride. It takes me away from the normal anxious thoughts and feelings I have during flights. It diverts my attention from the rather funky odor of the man next to me as he is nearly sitting in my lap. He can't help it(the lap part). The seats are small and very close. The music helps me forget my questions about air travel in general and my total distust of anyone who would choose to make their living being a pilot. It's not natural to 'slip the surly bonds of earth' and I really don't care about the thousand things you might have seen! There is a small part of me the honestly believes if God had wanted us to fly...He'd have given us wings.
To top it all off, I just know that the FAA has it out for me. Any minute now they are going to announce that Molli must turn off her pink iPod as we begin to make our descent into Melbourne. My little shuffle could somehow interfere with our ability to land safely...or something. Yeah, right! It is all beyond my ability to comprehed.
My big burning question is this: WHO is giving away the Big Girl Merit Badges today? I write at 9:50am (ET) and I've been up since 3am (CT), parked my trusty Jeep in long-term parking, hiked into the terminal by 4:30 am (CT! I have taken off twice and am about to descend to my final destination and Rocket Man, who certainly awaits in some sort of rental car chariot to take me to the beach!
I have not....not even once...babbled to my seatmate about my fear of flying, my amazing grandchildren, the Ares IX launch, our plans for a Thanksgivig picnic on the beeach, Memphis Tiger basketball or Georgia football. All of this without the aide of any drugs to 'take the edge off'! (even though I have 2 lovely yellow pills that could do just that leftover from my MRI)
I've been very big today, and nobody around me even knows it. I think I've earned my Big Girl Merit Badge today, thank you very much.
Ooops...here comes the in-flight host to tell me to turn off Kenny Wayne Shepard while we prepare to land. Guess the hot pink earbuds and my bobbing head tipped her off that it is on. The GRAND PRIZE..the one and only Rocket Man...awaits! Maybe he has my Merit Badge.