You Are Now Free to Move About the Country

Here’s a random Crystal factoid for you.

I hate flying.

It not the getting to the airport hrs early or the waiting in lines for security that gets me. It's the act of actually flying that I am opposed to.  Don't get me wrong. I do it and though I am no frequent flier I would say I fly with some frequency; at least once sometimes twice a year. But, I hate the feeling of queasiness I get during take off and landing.  Even worse than that, I lament the fact that unlike a 5 hr car ride, in a 5 hr plane ride there is no stopping for fresh air to stretch your legs a bit.   No quick pit stops to grab a snack or two. From the moment the cargo doors shut until you are safely taxied up to the terminal at the end, you are stuck.

And this always creates a certain feeling of panic inside me.

I know what your thinking… oh Crystal is a claustrophobic.  Maybe a little yea, but that’s not really the panic I’m talking about.  This is a panic of much grander scale.

Will I have enough to eat???

Each time we pass through security I am scouting to find food to get me through the flight. “Were going to miss lunch,” I'll tell a Scott as I make a dash for Subway or Starbucks or ahem both.  And no matter how long the flight (it could literally be an hour flight before we transfer to our connecting flight), I still enter the terminal starved and convinced  it must be dinner time somewhere (whether it's home or our future destination) and therefore we better eat now or “our body will be out of whack.”

Somehow my fear of missing dinner due to the time zone changes and the long hours in the air, ensures that I ate three dinners instead of one… I won’t be stepping on the scale anytime soon as I am sure I put on 5 lbs this weekend thanks to the fact that Southwest doesn’t serve meals on flights.