Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Babies Die in Plane Crashes, Too

Every time I get on a plane, I look at the other passengers to get a sense of who will be with me when I die.  This is because I assume that every flight I take will crash.  I’m not afraid to fly.  Getting on a plane doesn’t make me nervous or keep me awake the night before I’m scheduled to take off.  The thought of missing a flight, however, gives me the shakes, so I tend to arrive at the airport way too early.  I’ve spent a lot of time at airports, waiting to depart.  My recent trip to Arizona was no exception.  The flights to and from Arizona were delayed due to icy runways at O’Hare.  When waiting at the terminal to fly back home, I read a book and began to worry about the plane sliding past the runway while landing.

Almost immediately after I’ve boarded a plane and familiarized myself with the faces of death, I look for a baby.  I figure God wouldn’t be that mean and off a kid in such a traumatic fashion. For this reason, the sight of a child on a plane is calming.  I tend to get semi-religious while taking off; during landings, I become a Baptist.  The flight back to Chicago was pretty turbulent.  It took off almost two hours after the scheduled time, so the pilots decided to take advantage of a wicked tailwind and haul ass at 33,000 feet to make up for the delay.  While being tossed and jostled, I searched for a child on the plane.  But there were no kids; I was the only baby on board.

I’ve felt that since the end of 2006, each day has been one peanut-packed shitcake after another.  This past year is one that I’m ready to forget entirely; I can’t wait for the calendar to turn.  So when I heard one more second was being added to 2008, I thought that that seemed fitting.  There’s no escape from this funk.  What’s to stop the people in charge from adding another day to the year?  They do it during leap year.

I’ve never been able to handle winter too well.  I’m not sure why.  But I get irritated easily, I’m sluggish, and I bitch too much.  Sometimes a little perspective can show you the insignificance of your problems.  One of my best friends slipped on ice and smacked her mouth into the frozen blacktop of her grandparent’s neighbor’s driveway this past week.  Nearly bit off her top lip.  Cracked two teeth clean in half and shattered a third.  She’s been spending the rest of her break running around to get her face mended.  She’s a fighter.  I’m a complainer.  My resolution for the New Year is to stop worrying about the minutiae.  I need to relax more and act like less of a child.  The final stretch of grad school is a semester away, and my current state of mind will only make this run harder.

1 comment:

reenska said...

I get the part about becoming semi-religious, but what do you mean about being Baptist?