Sometimes, when I’m sitting on a plane about to take off to some far away destination I start to panic. It strikes me the moment our wheels lift off the ground. I fear that I am not on the right plane.
I fear that I have somehow passed through the gate check due to a faulty boarding pass scanner. I fear that I’m not going to where I’m supposed to be headed. I fear that TSA or the FBI will be greeting me when we land. I fear that the last people I will ever see will not be my amazing family or insanely weird and beautiful friends, but instead will be these strangers who aren’t acknowledging the old man in 6C who keeps farting.
I’ve never gotten on the wrong plance. I’ve never been greeting by the TSA or the FBI or Homeland Security upon landing. I have no idea where this irrational fear stems from.
But, I did try to sneak in 16 oz. of water through security today.
It didn’t work.