It turns out I should have taken it so I could write.
Oh well, you're going to get a phone update instead.
Today was the first time I flew by myself, and only the second time I've ever flown.
To say I was scared shitless was an understatement.
On the 2.5 hour drive to the airport, my stomach was in knots. I felt terrible (at 5 a.m.).
I stopped at a store to get some last-minute stuff, then I headed to the airport.
In the airport, the weird stomach feeling continued. I was sweating. I felt terrible.
I should probably warn you now that I likely have a little anxiety problem.
Anyway, I followed the person in front of me, which turned out to be a pretty good idea.
I made it through with no trouble. Please note that I have no idea what I'm doing. Literally, not a clue.
Then the flight took off. I was in an isle seat, and I kind of thought my stomach was going to drop out of my butt.
It was not good.
We hit a few bumps, and I started screaming obscenities in my head. A guy three rows up started pointing out the window.
I cursed in my head.
Why are you pointing? Stop it!
Meanwhile, the cowboy next to me was sleeping through all of this. He was also snoring.
Near the end of our flight, the pilot told us there were some storms in Atlanta and that we were going to cruise around at 6,000 feet for a few minutes until the storms cleared.
A person with an anxiety problem is flying in storms.
WHY?
I had a 39-minute layover in Atlanta. You guys, I was cutting it close.
Once we landed, it seemed like we were on the runway forever. Sigh.
When we got off the plane in Atlanta, I stopped to take it all in.
It was huge! There were people everywhere!
The gates had numbers AND letters. It's kind of how I feel about math - I liked it better when it was all just numbers.
Once you throw the alphabet into the mix shit just starts getting weird.
Anyway, I found my gate and my way to the gate. It involved a subway ride and lightly jogging past 52 gates.
FIFTY TWO GATES.
I hauled ass, didn't stop to eat for lunch, and got into my next plane with less than 10 minutes to spare.
It was nine minutes and 32 seconds, to be exact.
By the skin of my teeth!
That flight didn't mess around. We left on time.
This time, I had a window seat. My nerves had settled a bit, and I'm really glad I changed my seat yesterday.
Plus I kind of felt like a badass for navigating the Atlanta airport.
I wish I could describe how beautiful the clouds were we flew into and over on the second flight.
There were a few rainbows. There was lush green scenery below, long windy and twisty roads, and whispy clouds floating around us that looked like huge cotton balls exploded.
It was beautiful, and it was just what I needed to calm my nerves down.
For now on, I think I'm a window seat person.
That flight lasted 22 minutes. It was by far the best 22 minutes of my week.
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