Bitter Bloggings from and Optimistic Actress: Leaving on a Jet Plane

This blog has nothing to do with the SAG strike.  Or the Writer's Strike.  None of that.  No I didn't book anything.  I am deep in the doldrums waiting for the wind to pick up so I have to rely on 9-5's and the occasional murder mystery job or singing gig until acting picks back up.  Which is fine.  Not the first time I have gone three months without acting work, and it certainly will not be the last.

This seemed like a great time to go to Italy.  Yes, in October I will be winging my way into the wild blue across the big blue towards the big boot.  This means I have to take part in my least favorite form of travel, flight.  This also means I have started to prep myself for the fact I will be in a giant metal tube of death zooming through the sky at speeds exceeding six hundred miles an hour at an altitude of over thirty thousand feet for over nine hours.

I listen to aviophobia ASMR before I sleep.  I remind myself that air is like the ocean and it just moves up and and side to side.  (Honestly, I can sleep through the most angry and violent of seas)  I think of what my fellow aviophobe said about the only real concern will be "if an engine catches fire, which rarely happens."

None of it really helps.  The only thing that does, is living through the terror and pushing through the other side.  Do I like traumatizing myself?  No.  How else will I get to any of those amazing places in a reasonable amount of time?  Hi-speed sea trains anyone?

The last flight I went on for work was without my husband for the first time.  Technically my first flight without a family member around.  40 years old taking my first solo flight.  I had co-workers around, but none of them were close to my seat, so I was alone.  I decided to take an aisle seat.  I was able to book a seat with more legroom.  Seriously, the exit row is one hundred percent worth it.

The stress does not start until I sit down.  I tend to tell the flight attendants that I am a super nervous flier.  It wouldn't seem helpful to tell them that every time I get on a plane, no matter what the statistics say, I feel like our chances of death are 50/50.  You read that right.  I want to visit the location so much that I am willing to risk death.  That is what my brain is telling me every second I am in a plane.  (Side note: The autocorrect keeps saying on a plane and that doesn't make sense if you think about it.  You are in the fuselage, not on top.) 

The pilot's voice can be heard in the cabin.  He is apologizing profusely for the lack of air conditioning.  It will be better when we get up in the air.  He also says it might get a little bumpy on the way up there.  I always listen to the pilot in hopes of hearing that it will be a smooth ride.  When the pilot says we are having a smooth ride there may be some light bumps but nothing bad.  If a pilot tells me it will be bumpy I am expecting the worst turbulence ever.

Is it the worst ever on take-off?  No.   Is is bumpy?  Yep.  Am I gripping my seat trying to watch anything to make me laugh in hopes of making the flight more enjoyable?  You bet!  

I think, due to the heat, for the first time in my life, I experienced a brief moment of vertigo.  I have never felt that in my life and hope that I don't feel that EVER AGAIN!  For a few seconds, it felt like the whole plane was doing cartwheels in the sky.  I clapped my hands over my ears and pressed on the side of my head until it went away.

I was able to chat with the guy next to me for the flight but the pilot seemed to constantly be correcting the plane.  They gave us water to help, it didn't.  The flight attendants were very kind.  One of them even walked by and when I blurted out I was a nervous flier, she looked at me with a huge smile and said I was in good hands.  Not a few minutes later the pilot told us we would be on the ground in 20 minutes.  I looked out the window at the clouds far below and thought, "not unless you nose dive."

I was right, it took another 35 minutes to reach the ground.  The landing was also really bumpy.  The plane shifted left and right and I felt like he was constantly trying to correct.  When we landed we hit hard.  Hard enough that everyone on board was commenting.  Also, as he was trying to slow down, there was a painful grinding that echoed through the cabin.  Someone said he threw a brake, but it took a little extra to slow down.

When we got off the plane, one of my co-workers looked at me and said the flight attendant (the one who had been so kind) had quietly told her "This plane isn't coming back with us."  Glad I hadn't heard that.  Yes I flew back.  Yes, it was better.  I will fly again.  

I will close my eyes and think of Italy.