My maiden voyage in a tiny plane. Four seater. Like a tin can. Been in bigger cars. On runway. Terrified. Stomach doing flip flops. Barf bags at the ready. Friend texted me prayer - wrong religion but who cares.
I'm trying to tell myself it's an adventure. Terrific views. Bucket list. Used to want to learn to fly. Nothing is working. Time for yoga breathing. In thru the nose, out thru the mouth. Or is it the reverse. Lamaze anyone?
So I'm writing. Maybe that will help. On the way to the airport I texted my boys with thoughts, love and advice. Freaked out the eldest. It's all just in case.
We are sitting on runway waiting for clearance. I can't decide if it's making me more or less nervous.
Oh, here we go. Engines (yes two) getting louder and faster. Moving now. And we're up. A little calmer now. Spoke too soon. Looking out the window made it worse. Eyes on phone. Eyes on phone. Breathe. Write. Close eyes. Breathe. Open eyes. Look straight ahead. Pilots (yes two) are calm.
Trying not to hurl. It is smooth, but I am the one who got sick on a dinner cruise around Manhattan. Breathe. Only 68 minutes to go.
Flying right on top of clouds. Fluffy and pretty. They really do resemble giant cotton balls. And now, view of ground is pretty. River to the left, clouds to the right. I'm okay. Safest part of the flight, right? Plane is level, instrument control panel working, lights are green not red (I assume that's good in the universal language of color coding). I don't see any other planes.
I was just about to try eating some nuts - salted cashews not peanuts are an upgrade - when we turn . . . As does my stomach. Perhaps I should not. Back to breathing.
Pilot just checked on us. Gave him the thumbs up. 45 minutes to go. When I look straight out the front of the plane, I almost can't tell we are moving. Until I can . . . Little bumps, slight turns, but actually smoother than my typical commercial jet. Pretty cloud view again. Say cheese. Darn prop is photobombing . . .
Every little bump makes me nervous. Back to breathing . . . Oops opened my eyes . . . Is that the fuel gauge on the "dash"? Between 1/2 and E? I want full. Must be something else. It's moving away from "E."
A little dicey right now - bumpy - and feels like we are descending . . . Intentionally. Full cloud cover isn't my favorite. Blood pressure rising. Breathe. Not much longer. Mid-flight pep talk seems rather silly; at this point there's no choice but to suck it up.
Clear view of Foxwoods Casino. Plane drops, stomach plunges. Still doing better than the honeymoon helicopter hell - will spare the details and think of majestic volcano views.
15 minutes to go and getting lower. Ears clogging and opening. Ocean and bay views now. Almost there.
Landing process isn't my thing. Wheels down. Turns. Noises. There's the landing strip and . . . We are down!
