For about the twentieth-fifth time in the last thirteen years, we are packing up and heading to Orlando. It is only a four-day getaway to escape the snow and cold, but that is better than not going at all. DW is in charge of packing her stuff and the DD's. I am in charge of the guy stuff. Usually I forget underwear (twice) socks (once) or cell phone (once.) I always forget something, which is why I cannot sleep the night before if our flight is the next morning. I worry about missing the plane or forgetting some key piece of clothing or equipment. I toss and turn and sweat all night.
Some of my most gut-wrenching recurring dreams relate to airports. I either miss my flight, get on the wrong flight or fly to Honolulu on a whim for a 2-day trip, regretting it as soon as the plane is airborne.
Other variations are A) descending and landing through high tension wires and narrow city streets, B) taking off on a ramp and then not ascending any more (dream usually ends there) C) forgetting my luggage and finally the ever-popular D) I am at the controls of a jumbo jet taking her in. This is grist for some headshrinker's mill, I am telling you what.
2 comments:
Just aim for the middle line of the runway and you'll bring her down fine.
You need a little aversion therapy -- fly to Hong Kong and no landing will ever scare you again.
Well, except for a Southwest landing at Midway.
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