I’m feeling a little Seinfeld right now so I want to talk about planes for a minute.
Fuck flying.
I think we are all inherently a little afraid to fly. I had this totally original thought when my wife and I were taking off to head to a place that required flying to.
What kind of psycho isn’t afraid to be taken up 30,000 feet into a different dimension in a metal cylinder full of other victims? When the plane accelerated and started to rattle before lifting off, I looked around to see how everyone was reacting. The only person that genuinely could not be bothered was an older man; grey hair, distinguished features, late fifties/early sixties, writing in a laptop he was supposed to put away ten minutes ago. Not knowing absolutely anything else about that guy, I can tell he had seen some shit. I’m going to say he was a war correspondent in Vietnam. Sometimes I like to give little backstories to strangers I encounter. This guy was an aspiring young journalist fresh out of college. He enlisted in the army and was able to get a coveted job writing for a military newspaper. His gritty, but heartfelt stories earned him some renown and after his service, he started writing for the LA Times where he would work his way up from beat writer to executive editor. Although successful in his career, his three attempts at marriage failed due to his inability to cope with the alcoholism caused by the post-traumatic symptoms left over from his time in Vietnam. He had three children with three different women but none visit him. So he loses himself in his work, always traveling, always on his computer, keeping the demons at bay until the next evening when he finds himself in a quiet hotel room, again. His only company is his pain and a bottle of Jack Daniels, again.
Anyways, back to the plane thing.
Airplanes are Petri dishes for intrusive thoughts. Everything just seems little darker and ominous when every single bump makes you profoundly aware of your fragility. Simply looking out of the window makes you realize that you are but one human error away from a gruesome death, and are absolutely helpless about it. There’s nothing you can do. That plane fails at 30,000 feet and you are every shade and flavor of fucked. I get its convenient, but we are suicidally obsessed with invading dimensions we don’t belong in. That tickle in the pit of your stomach, that awareness of every sound, that jumpiness that ceases you every time you feel turbulence, that is perhaps the most primordial and sensible part of your brain telling you “Dude, what the fuck are we doing up here?! We don’t have wings you moron! Ah Jesus we are so fucked!”
I remember being less afraid of flying when I was younger. I think it might have been that false sense of invincibility a lot of teenagers have. To be honest, I really am not that much older, but more and more often I find myself being reminded of my mortality and how easily my entire existence could be snuffed out without a warning. I think its all the drugs. Airplanes are excellent at awakening these existential fears. Luckily, they are pretty safe. It’s marketed as the ‘safest method of transportation’ which I don’t totally buy, but so far all my airplane experiences have been pretty smooth. Only time I have come close to death because of a flight was when I had a layover in Newark, New Jersey on my way to our honeymoon. But that was only because that shithole will make you want to kill yourself. I like that this started with ‘fuck flying’ and ended with ‘fuck New Jersey’ so I’m going to leave it here.
Lando Writes Sometimes 
Right there with you! Sometimes knowledge is a terrible thing (i.e. falling from the sky will certainly be the end). I don’t know if you ever watched that TV series about airplane crashes, which I can’t remember the name of – something boring like Air Disasters. You would think that series would compound and add to flying fears and since I already had enough of that to keep me from flying I saw no disadvantage to watching. It had the reverse effect for me. There is actually stuff you can do to increase your survival odds and they had a whole episode about those things. This doesn’t really motivate me to fly though. The only thing that will get me on a plane is when someone I love is at the other end of that plane ride. If it were a boat, well I hope the person on the other end loves me enough to come visit or they may never see me again.
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Hi Beth! I don’t think I ever thanked you for subscribing but that’s only because I am barely an excuse for a functioning adult. So let me thank you now; thank you.
I think the only show I watched that involved plane crashes was Lost. Although getting stuck on a tropical paradise serving as a metaphor for purgatory would be one of the best case scenarios for a high altitude crash. I’ll take you with me on the next flight I have since you have some knowledge about increasing your survivality during a crash, knowledge you suspiciouslly did not share in your comment. Maybe it’s a population control thing, so I get it, can’t have too many people surviving in an already overpopulated world.
I also echo your fears of the ocean – ironic for a Cuban. There’s just something about that vastness that makes me feel so insignificant and helpless. Looking out into the sea and knowing that I can start swimming right now and I would die of exhaustion long before I reach anything resembling land is a feeling I could honestly do without. I try to keep all my boat experience in the Caribbean if possible, I feel like there’s a higher chance of someone finding you if you sink between all those islands. I don’t think I’ll be going in a transpacific voyage anytime soon.
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That’s f****** hysterical Paradise as Purgatory. I promise you, you do not want to fly with me I get motion sick. As to survival, think flame retardant clothing and boots you wouldn’t mind traipsing through the Everglades in. If you promise me you’ll watch it I’ll give you a few of my precious minutes to dig up the episode which I believe you can find on Amazon Prime video.
I don’t subscribe to the belief that there is not enough resources to go around, so no need for population control. I think it’s more so what you said before human error. There is that.
I think one need not feel insignificant while appreciating the vastness of the ocean in fact I wish that for my children as sung in the song I Hope You Dance. You may find me dancing by the ocean but I see no need to go any further than knee-deep and that’s probably too much.
What if we create our own reality and we could choose how we want to go without committing suicide? Although, I may retire in Oregon. As for me, I’m going to stop fearing all the ways I may die and focus on the death I would find acceptable to me. I’m sure it isn’t cancer by the way.
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