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30 april 2002

dinner in asheville, anyone?

i think mom may come up here after reading this

Yeah...uh...hi, Mom! I sure do love you bunches! You should read the news today. If you decide to read further, I guess I'll be expecting your phone call in about ten minutes. Sorry in advance.

So I guess you could say I've gone and done it now. That would be the nice way of putting it.

I've mentioned a time or two that I've got a pretty serious fear of flying. Like, I-should-just-get-my-own-row-phobic. I'm not particularly proud of this, nor do I understand its onset. Until a few short years ago, I used to love flying, or at least didn't give it a second thought. I guess between realizing your own mortality, and getting a couple of full-on scares, being airborne can become a less-than-appealing proposition.

To fly in recent years, I've been harnessing the power of alcohol. Jim Beam makes me a good passenger. Whee...or at least not AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!

So I've been thinking lately, that this isn't my style. Time to fix it.

(And here's where Mom hits the ground.)

I've signed up for flying lessons.

Now, let's get one thing straight. I am not on my way to getting a pilot's license, okay? I have no ambition of jetting hither and yonder at a moment's notice for poops and giggles. I don't want to do this for a living, not a bit, not at all. I don't want to fly my friends to the beach for lunch because that's a neato thing to do.

I just want to get my confidence back, and I think this is the way to do it. After all, I know myself pretty well. The way I see it, if I'm busy learning how to read the instrument panel and manipulate the controls, then I'm not just attempting to get over the fear. I'm educating my way out of it. And whee, or whatever.

I suppose my goals for this little endeavor aren't very lofty. Goal one: enter plane. Goal two: don't barf. Goal three: takeoff, then see goal two. Impressive, huh. The flight training that I'm undertaking is just that: recreational training for people who want to learn this skill over however much time it takes. I don't have to get a license. I don't have to graduate. I don't have to solo, which is where I draw the line anyway. Like hell I'm going up alone in that contraption.

So sometime this summer, I'll report back to you with how my first couple of lessons go. On a scale of Up, Up, and Away...I'm at fasten your seatbelt. Eh, it's a start. We'll keep some Jim Beam in the upright and locked position, you know, for safety.