“Courage is being scared to death... and saddling up
anyway.” ~John Wayne
With a subtle “click-click” out of
the side of my mouth, I summoned the necessary presence of one of my many High
Horses from the stable to assist me with a particularly worrisome task. And who should arrive, but a mighty stallion
named “Daedalus” (yeah, it’s Greek and I
can’t pronounce it either), who snorted disapprovingly in my face.
“Look, I don’t know how to fly” I
fessed up, feeling very much like a lame fledgling waddling shamefully through
a nest of twigs.
But lowering his neck and giving me
a hoof up, I clambered aboard Daedalus for strength and comfort as I began
searching websites for airline tickets.
Granted it was a wee bit difficult
to see the keyboard what with all the clawing at the ground, digging of heels, and
attempting to break out of the reins (that
would all be me), but eventually I managed to log on to the Bob Hope
Airport information page.
And there were links to airlines to
map my trip! Frankly, astride my High
Horse, I could achieve anything! Oh,
Daedalus was fueling my hubris! I could
fly ever so close to the sun on my own wings (i.e. credit card), and with such minimal flights! I could visit family and friends in two
different cities in a week and a half!
Yes, strap on the man-made wings and
I will soar!
“Hmm...” my beloved friend (and
Travel Agent) C2 mused on the phone as Daedalus and I circled anxiously in our
comfort zone corral while she checked her computer. “I’m not sure if you read the fine print on
the websites, but there aren’t any direct flights for any of your travel
plans.”
*SPLAT*
“Let’s see... I can reroute you through JFK on the east
coast, and maybe have you switch planes in Detroit on this one, but you’ll probably
have to go through Atlanta on that one...
Wait.... uh-oh...”
Uh-oh? UH-OH?!
Who wants to hear “UH-OH!” from a Travel Agent?!?!
“Let me play with the dates and see
what I can do that might accommodate your special needs” she smiled lovingly
over the phone. “I can even get a travel
cart for you, if your hip still hurts!
Boop, boop, boop!”
(Well, I quite liked the sound of that! Perhaps I should pack my tiara and attempt to
use my cheap LED scepter as a cane?)
But, Uck...
I was stressing.
My pea-brain was spiraling out of
control.
Since the last flight that I’d
spread my wings for was essentially an up and down swoop and plummet from Los
Angeles to Las Vegas five years ago (Yeesh,
I barely got to suck down my one and only free drink on the plane!), not to
mention the fact that my visit spanned less than forty-eight hours; luggage
wasn’t really required aside from a set of PJs and a change of clothes.
But, Uck...
I was now looking at essentially ten
days of travel. In the air. ALL across the country. And waaaay out of my comfort zone.
CUE the anxiety!
>>><<<
From day one of starting this blog,
I’ve been painfully honest with all of you who are kind enough to pop by and
have a read and I thank you for your kindness!
But frankly, I’m nervous...
Yes, I’ve paid for all of my
reservations, but I still have reservations.
How do I pack for this trip? How much cash will I need? How disgustingly humid will temperatures be? Will I be able to make all of my
connections? Will my luggage survive the
journey? Will I find the next terminal
for all of my plane changes? (And why
must they call it a “terminal”?)
To top it off, there will be “airplane-people-germs”
everywhere!!! (Perhaps this wasn’t the best week to TiVo a marathon of the Emmy
winning show “Monk”... (One episode in,
and I had to vacuum again.))
Yet most importantly, with plans to check
only one bag and a guarantee of aisle seating on only half of my flights, where
on earth (if you will) would I stow mighty
Daedalus? Inside a teeny overhead
bin? Crammed under the seat?
I think not!
Working myself up into a full-frenzied blather, my
personal control issues were, well, spinning out of control...
>>><<<
After roughly three days of
seriously stubborn negotiations on my part (Daedalus
brutally kicked me at the thought of a red-eye which made me change planes at
Chicago O’Hare at 5:11 in the morning); a handful of emails (Daedalus had no interest WHATSOEVER in my
parents driving all the way to Detroit and us sitting in a car for hours (where
would he lie down?!); as well as repeated lengthy telephone calls (Daedalus and I salivated at the thought of
a temporary lay-over in Las Vegas) with the world’s most patient Travel
Agent, apparently this bat-cave dwelling, angst-ridden misanthrope, who
despises leaving her comfort zone, will be experiencing the hospitality of four
different airlines, seven separate flights and hourly lay-overs (in no
particular order) at Burbank CA, Phoenix AZ, Chicago IL, Detroit MI (TWICE),
Ft. Wayne IN, Syracuse NY and JFK in New York City...
“Are you planning on checking any
luggage?” my brilliant friend and Travel Agent wanted to know as we finalized
the details.
“One bag. I don’t want to have to lug it everywhere.” (Metaphorically,
my MENTAL baggage (and you know, my
HORSE) could easily disrupt the weight of the planes.)
“Understood!” she’d agreed. “So how do you want to pay?”
And that’s when
push came to shove. (Hence my choice of photo for this post.)
“It’ll be a Master Card” I nodded
‘assertively’ (hey, I’m an Actor) as
my quivering anxious fingers pulled the plastic from the wallet in my purse.
>>><<
As my parents had generously offered
to reimburse me for my flights should I make the time to spend a week with them,
I had to admit that we’ve spent far too many years apart. In addition, I have three “new” family
members whom I’ve not yet met; plus I made a heartfelt promise to attend a
small, intimate wedding on the east coast for one of my best friends who found
his soul mate.
Yes, the flights were costly (taking
into account my “special needs”); but if I could successfully tackle Standing-in
on a post-coitus scene in bed with actor David Spade (I did!), for a Network Run-Thru, then I could certainly spread my wings
for this adventure, and not let down my family and friends!
>>><<<
“Well hello there!” my fiend RJ
beamed over the phone. “We got your
emailed itinerary, and we can’t wait to see you! How are you?”
“I’m panicking a little...” I
fretted. “I don’t fly! I don’t know how to do this!” I whimpered,
wiping puddles of sweat off of my palms on my cozy indoor jammies as I lurked
about in the comforting darkness of my sanctuary.
“Piece of cake” my seasoned traveler
pal (who flies all over the world every
other day) offered. “Toddler in a
mini-van. Just bring what you need to
keep from being crabby.”
GENIUS!
>>><<<
Voddy-logically, Daedalus and I sat
down to formulate a workable plan together.
“Toddler in a mini-van” I repeated
the mantra as we scanned the bat cave for comforting items whilst I whipped out
a pen and pad of paper for a check list.
First and foremost, the mighty
stallion nuzzled my heroic “Wonder Woman” tote as a carry-on to contain
nerve-calming crossword puzzles (brilliant!);
followed by a snort at my Kindle Fire and earplugs (genius! -– as well as a
hearty equine-mucousy reminder to pack tissues and loads of hand sanitizer);
and disappearing into the kitchen, I’ll be darned if Daedalus didn’t
clippety-clop back with an oats and honey granola bar in his teeth. (OK,
maybe he was just hungry for a snack, but what a terrific idea for my travels!)
Now, before a handful of you lovely
kind readers hop upon your own High Horses to admonish me for my angst, share
your tales of lengthy travels and how effortlessly you gracefully gad about the
world; please understand that I have no real fear of flying. After all, my Dad got his pilot’s license
when I was quite young, and I have only fond memories of buzzing about in a
tiny twin engine jalopy!
Nay, I’m facing
mythological demons of my adult control issues...
I suppose it’s rather appropriate
that my deceased Grandpa (on my Dad’s side) showed up randomly in a dream for a
family dinner. Most everyone was there
(although my pea-brain re-cast one of my nephews with young actor Graham
Patrick Martin whom I worked with years ago...)
But it wasn’t until a few days later
that I remembered my Grandparents putting me on a plane back home from a visit
to Florida.
“Gee, I hope THAT’S not the pilot”
my beloved Grandpa had said, pointing out a man in cap and uniform. “He’s got shifty
eyes. And I think his hands are
shaking!”
(WTF???)
>>><<<
Yes, billions of people safely fly
all over the world every single day.
And billions of people also have
dental work performed too.
But neither means that I won’t be an
angst-ridden puddle oozing down the exit ramps out of every single plane!
Biting the bullet, saddling up and
slowly preparing for take-off,
~Fledgling P (and mighty Daedalus!)
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