One of the big things that happened since the last time I blogged was that the Husband and I visited our parents in northwest Indiana. Now that we live in Vermont, going home means one of two things: a really long car ride or a moderately long plane ride. Actually, traveling home has meant a relatively long car ride for ages now. The closest we've lived was on the other side of the Chicago suburbs, and even that was over an hour through city traffic.
Vermont to Indiana, though, that's a whole different league. The first few times we did it, we wanted to take the dog, so we drove. Friends, that is a 14-hour drive, which is bad enough. But whether you go across Ohio or across Canada, there is no way to make it interesting. A piece of my soul died on the Ohio Turnpike, and I will never get it back. Frankly, if getting it back means returning to the Ohio Turnpike, I'll do without.
Thus it was that this time, we decided to fly. This is not a decision made lightly. Aside from the monetary cost (which was not inconsiderable even after the in-laws graciously got our tickets for us) is the emotional cost. I am not a fan of flying. This is primarily because I am emetophobic, which in my case means I have a fear of seeing people throw up, which I know is weird, but it's true, so there you go. I can only think of one place where people vomit frequently enough that they slip bags into the seats to make it more convenient. Coincidentally, it is also a place you are forced to remain belted in next to random strangers.
So that's a big chunk (ha!) of why I don't like flying. Honestly, though, why does anyone like flying? You're in a tight seat. It smells funny. There isn't enough legroom for me and I'm not quite 5'0" tall. They barely feed you, and when they do it's not good. You go to the bathroom in what is essentially a cramped portapotty with a disturbing vacuum flush. It is not a pleasant experience.
All of which is to say that in a plane I am not my most rational self. I am not a superstitious person, and I am a firm believer in and supporter of science as a concept. That doesn't change the fact that there is a very real, not insignificant part of my brain that really believes that what keeps the plane up is the combined faith of everyone on the plane that it's going to stay up. If too many people get too worried, the whole thing crashes. This is good in that it forces me to think happy soothing thoughts. It is bad in that any errant negative thoughts feel a little bit life-threatening.
It's probably unfair that I am choosing to focus on what is to me the least pleasant part of the trip. It was lovely to see both families. It was lovely to see Lake Michigan. We went to the Art Institute for the first time in years. We went to Russian Tea Time for the first time ever. I saw two of my siblings, and went to the outlet mall with my mother-in-law. It was genuinely a good time. But it is also genuinely good that it will be a little while till I hear a boarding call again.
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