fear of flying

I'm flying out tonight.

I used to love flying. The destination, the journey, the heavy hand of takeoff when you're finally freed of gravity, the pure freedom of travelling.

I don't know what's changed, but now I dread it. I've worried all week about being on the plane. I think of the crowds, the weight of luggage burdened by holiday gifts. Ice, wind, weather.

Not only that, but the time spent in airports and on planes. Standing in long lines, being submitted to pointless and invasive searches in order to make everyone more docile yet irritable, sitting packed in those tiny seats, and hours and hours of waiting.

I used to like the time-- free, wide open time to read.

Hopefully reading and knitting will get me through, and I won't have any liquids or gels accidently snuck into my carry-on bag. Hopefully they'll let me take the knitting this time. I haven't tried in a while.

Not too long ago, in order to work on my Halloween costume I hid sewing supplies in my carry-on bag in a box of tampons. They didn't bother to look for my needles and scissors. Unfortunately my knitting kit wouldn't all fit in such a box.