Why I Hate Flying

I have been out of town again! I think it is time to take the wings off my heels and be still for awhile. Home is a good place to be.

Having spent a long weekend in California, I can attest to one true thing: I do not like to fly. The whole experience is unsatisfying to me. My trip home will sum it up.

I waited in the security line for one hour and 5 minutes. When I finally made it to the front, I could see my gate. The plane was loading; there was a hope that I might just make it, especially when the boarding pass checker ushered me into the first class line. I was feeling lucky for a few seconds until the first class line was stopped while they checked 3 wheelchair bound people and their families through. It would have gone a lot smoother if they would have had both metal detectors up and working, but that would have made too much sense. So, because I always get in the slowest moving line, my first class experience was second best as it turned out.

Out of frustration I said to the blue-tooth and suit wearing man behind me, "Kind of ridiculous today, huh?"

"It's working OK for me," he replied coldly.

"Really?! I've been in line an hour!"

"Your kidding?"

"No. See that line that snakes all the way around down there?" pointing to the rest of my coach sharing passengers, at least those I could see without using binoculars.

And then he said, and I quote, "Well, you should have paid more money."

Snobbery like that doesn't sit well with me. I laughed out loud. "Oh, yeah! I should have paid more money!" As in "Why didn't I think of that!"

"You've got to know your worth it."

"Oh! I KNOW I'm worth it. That's not the problem, believe me."

He bugged. Pompous ass.

Then security had to search my bag. They opened it, and, of course, my underwear was on top. Nice. Do you know that at some airports they want you to carry your plastic bag of mini-toiletries through security? They are called toiletries because they are supposed to be private! AND what kind of facial products come in 3 oz. sizes? Seriously.

I also hate walking through that thing barefoot. I just know I'm catching athlete's foot the whole time. It's gross.

Ever noticed how everything is getting smaller on the airplanes? Like the seats and my micro bag of peanuts. I think there might have been three nuts total. Yum. Why even bother?

And if they are that cheap, how do I know they aren't cutting corners elsewhere? Like nuts, bolts, engines, that sort of thing. Basically I am of the belief that we human beings should not be that far off the ground anyway. I always have to say a little prayer during take off. It goes a little something like this: "Please bless this hunk of metal. I do not want to die today." And it is repeated until my blood pressure settles. It's not poetic, but it is sincere. When we finally land I am always relieved. That is until we have to stand in another long line waiting for the doors to finally open. And what is it with the people who can not wait their turn?

So yes, I need to stop traveling for a while. It's making me grouchy. Maybe I just need to go shopping and throw my big wads of money around for awhile. After all, I've got to know I'm worth it.