Jeff and I are heading to California on Wednesday. As I blogged before, traveling with a significant other seems like a giant test. I'll fully admit that traveling sometimes drives me to neurosis, especially when I start thinking about getting on a plane. Honestly, I hate to fly. I try to relax. I try to stay calm. I still hate it. What I really need to do is reread the chapter about flying in The Culture of Fear before we leave. It talks about why we're not afraid to get into a car but are terrified of flying even though getting in a car puts us at risk every single day.
I get uber-gold (for you non True-Colors folks, super-organized) before I travel. What does this mean? This means I create a travel document with all of my vital travel info (planes, trains, and automobiles plus hotels). I also try to record any other info that will be hard to access when I'm away from the internet. It was in doing this that I realized that we're flying on a plane that looks more like a toy than something that should be at 30,000 feet. And I freaked, in true Sarah style.
Thank God for Jeff's patience and understanding. He said that we just balance one another and I quipped that his sanity balances my insanity (as I told him, just because I'm nervous doesn't mean I'm not funny). I do appreciate that he is a rock for me and doesn't get flustered in the way that I do.
So after a minor meltdown about the small size of the plane plus the fact that we don't have assigned seats yet, I'm feeling a bit better and eager to travel -- hopefully my wonderful boyfriend isn't having second thoughts.
... he really is wonderful.
xoxo
Sarah
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