November 7 and I've been in three states today.....

Remember yesterday's post where I was worrying about flying? Well, I had good reason to be worried because today I experienced terrifying turbulence in an airplane. I'm not talking a few bumps through the clouds. I'm talking so rough it was hard to read or hold my Kindle and it felt like a truck hit us midair. You know, if trucks flew. And went 600 miles an hour. My point is, I had to close my eyes, pray fervently, grip my jacket and take deep breaths, and I still could not quell my anxiety. When the plane landed I felt like my legs were jelly. Still taking deep breaths, I exited the plane but not before I heard the pilot say "Yeah, I'm new!" God help me.

And you know, yes, flying can be beautiful, like when you see the sun streaming over the clouds like this:

Or you see cool jet streams in the sky like this:

Or you see an awesome river reflecting the sun like this: 

But that turbulence will ruin it every time. It's like a bumpy car ride only when you reach for something to hold on to, you realize you are IN THE AIR and there's nothing between you and the ground, except AIR, and the whole reason you're feeling all these horrible, lurching, tipping, shaking, dropping moves is because of AIR. This is why I hate air travel. 

It was already dark by the time we got our rental car and headed to York, PA. Hey, did you know that York Peppermint Patties were first manufactured in York, PA in 1940? That's what it says on the placard in our bed and breakfast. And there are York Peppermint Patties lying in little dishes all over our rooms. Here's a little Wiki background for you: York Peppermint Patties were first manufactured by Henry Kessler of the York Cone Co. in York, PA. Many similar peppermint chocolate candies were in existence before the York Peppermint Pattie but what made these unique was that while others had a soft and gooey center, the York had a firm and crisp center. According to a former employee of the company, if the pattie didn't snap clean in half during test sampling, it was considered a second. And that's how you "Get the Sensation"!

Let's just talk about how weird this whole Airbnb thing is. Anyone can rent a room in their house to anyone else for whatever amount they want and they make all the rules. So, I found this place online and these people live in a regular neighborhood. We just drove up, found the house number, and knocked on the door. A nice lady answered, asked us to take off our shoes (and offered up house slippers which "are washed between each guest" - I declined). She showed us to our upstairs quarters. There's a main bedroom with a queen bed that looks like this:

Hi Jeff! 

Plus, there's an extra room for just spreading out or lounging in that looks like this: 

And it has these super cool built-in bunkbeds so if you were traveling with kids, it would be so fun! 

And we don't know these people AT ALL. They are perfect strangers and we're just sleeping in their house. We took showers in their house! We are going to eat breakfast in their house! How weird is that? Plus, I've seen enough episodes of "Criminal Minds" to know that this could be the perfect scenario to lure unsuspecting people to your house just to murder them and make them into mincemeat pies or something. I mean, except for the paper trail, it would be the perfect crime! At least there's a lock on the door so I guess I'll be able to sleep. The last Airbnb place we stayed in had its own separate entrance and was its own little apartment. This place is right inside this couple's home. What if WE are the murderers? These people are crazy to let complete strangers into their home. And yet, here I am. 

So, we asked for a suggestion for a dinner restaurant and they highly recommended a Mexican/Peruvian place nearby. I was already starving when the plane landed, and then it took an hour to get the rental car and another hour to get to York, so that by the time we arrived at the restaurant, I was beyond hangry. Not a typo. And can you believe THREE people cut in front of us in line to get their name on the list? I mean, I'm trying to be polite.....I'm a guest in Pennsylvania after all, but....HOW RUDE! So, the wait was 20-25 minutes. You can imagine how hungry I was by the time we got our table. It took forever for them to bring us chips and salsa. The chips were warm and freshly-cooked but the salsa was watery and disappointing. Not to worry, though, my margarita was divine! I was SO looking forward to trying a Peruvian dish but nearly every dish had tilapia (ew, disgusting fish), salmon (in PA? I don't think so - how fresh can that be?!) or shrimp (again, the coast is too far away - I only trust seafood when I'm actually close to the water). So, I went with Mexican. Mexican is easy, right? Hard to screw up. Wrong. I had the worst "vegetarian burrito" ever. It was a cold flour tortilla filled with beans and about half a bag of shredded lettuce. I think they forgot the cheese completely. I had a quarter-size dollop of sour cream on top with an olive slice for garnish. The "pico de gallo" it was to be served with was another mound of bagged lettuce with a few tomato dices in it. It had no flavor, except for that nasty "bagged lettuce" taste. I HATE bagged lettuce. Plus, they forgot the side of rice and beans. When I asked for it, I was given a flavorless sauce-sized plate of ick. Jeff had a decent Peruvian dish, but overall the dinner was horribly disappointing and I was mad because I was starving for hours and was really looking forward to a good dinner. Jeff tried to make up for it by taking me to Dairy Queen after but I was already full from the little I did eat of the nasty burrito, so I only ate a few bites of my treat. Bleh. 

Now it's 10:10 here and Jeff is snoring. Never mind it's 7:10 our time. I guess we'll get an early start tomorrow, which is good because it's pitch black here by 5 p.m. and we have a big agenda. 

P.S. I'm totally calling my doctor to have her call in a prescription for Xanax or something for the flight home. Seriously. I'm not kidding. I'm considering driving home. I hate airplanes. Please don't make me get on another one. 

By air or by ?....

Airplane travel is a way of life. But that doesn't mean I have to like it. I recently traveled from my home in Washington to Ohio for a family visit. You should know that I REALLY don't like to fly, but unlike a ten-year period where I successfully avoided flying by making all manner of excuses (there was only one: my anxiety), I now fly, but I don't do it happily.

Of course there's the obvious - the plane might crash. I have sick, vivid mind-wanderings about what it would feel like, and if I would know for several minutes before the crash, and what would I say to my seatmate or would I just be quiet, or would I pray fervently, or would I just pass out from fear? Would it hurt? Would I survive, and if so, how would I forget the grisly scene? Like I said, I have a sick mind. I can't help it.

I'm also not particularly fond of letting a stranger fly the plane. I mean, what if he had too many cocktails? Is he on medications, and if so, which ones? Is she sleep-deprived? Does he have a history of making bad decisions? How many near-misses has she had? Is he a cocky jerk who won't pay attention and do something stupid? How many bird strikes has she experienced? These are the things that haunt me.

Then, there is the plane itself. WHY are the aisles so narrow? It's virtually impossible to walk down the aisle pulling a suitcase behind you without banging into someone. Then, you have to sit SO close to strangers. The seats are not wide. I'm a big girl, but I pity the poor soul who is even more overweight than I am. Double pity on the strangers who have to sit beside them. There is simply no way NOT to be cozy on an airplane. God forbid your seatmate has offensive body odor or a nervous stomach.

Much of this can be avoided by sitting in a window seat because you are able to turn your attention away from the offensive seatmates. In this case, my seatmate was my husband and he was slightly less offensive than the average person. Actually, he was a saint because he willingly gave me the window seat every time and suffered through the stranger sitting next to him.

There is virtually no privacy on an airplane and everyone can hear your conversations. Believe me, they can. On one flight, a man talked so long and so loud, it was all I could do not to tell him politely to shut the hell up. Because, seriously? Not only was the girl next to him SO not interested in what he did for a living, but neither were the two hundred other passengers on board who couldn't help but suffer through him waxing poetic about his success.

It's nice that they still offer beverages on airplanes, but WHY do they serve them in little short cups with no lids? Why can't they just pass out water bottles to everyone? Inevitably, something spills, or you're done with your drink and want nothing more than to get rid of the little cup with melting ice in it, but you have to suffer with it until the flight attendant comes through with a trash bag. Which is never, or exactly three minutes before you land.

It's a good thing they hand out those snack bags, too. On this trip, we actually got peanuts, which made me wonder - did they contact all the passengers and ask about peanut allergies? Because there are not enough Epi-pens in the world to combat the consumption and subsequent recirculation of that peanut-charged air. What if you DID have a peanut allergy? Can you get a special seat? Maybe the jump seat in the back of the plane next to the toilets?

Speaking of toilets, what the hell? Do they really think that's a bathroom they've fashioned in the back of the plane? There is barely enough room to turn in a complete circle in there, plus, why are there no seat covers? I had to delicately arrange three tissues on the doll-sized seat. When I flushed, I'm pretty sure the powerful suction took some of my DNA with it. Then, the sink only works if you push it with one hand while attempting to wash the other. Which we all know doesn't work because washing hands is a two-hand job. And the sink pretty much just blew a gust of air with a few spittles of water in it. Why even bother? Just put a big bottle of Purell in there and save some time. I despise going to the bathroom during air travel and will only do it when I'm in physical pain from my stretched bladder. Being in the window seat ensures I will "hold it" even longer because I don't want to disturb my seatmates.

Also? Turbulence. That's Latin for "holy-shit-we're-all-gonna-die." When the pilot takes the time to say over the intercom that it's going to get "a little bumpy" that means you will drop 5,000 feet in 0.00006573 seconds and your drink will fly out of that stupid little short, plastic cup. People will scream. Your imagination will go wild and you'll start promising God you'll become a nun if you can just PLEASE, this one time, NOT die, because you're NOT READY and you still have so much good to do in the world.

Speaking of the intercom, the only thing you ever hear the pilot say is "Bzzzz....31,000 feet.....the seatbelt sign....bzzz....bumpy....sorry folks.....bzzzzzz...thank you for flying Southwest Airlines." It's especially helpful when he/she announces gate changes over the intercom, because you will only hear "gate changes...bzzz" and you're basically screwed because your gate is B49 and you're flying into A1 and those terminals are seven miles apart and you have a 23 minute layover.

But you WILL hear the flight attendant's speech about safety regulations. You WILL look over the placard in front of you and you will commit to memory the most important parts of the safety speech: 1. The oxygen is stored overhead in a compartment that will supposedly open in an emergency, but isn't an emergency the actual BEST time for something to glitch? Why store the AIR in an inaccessible container? They let you push open the DOOR of the plane, but you have no access to the life-saving oxygen unless the plane decides to let you. 2. Your seat cushion doubles as a flotation device. Which is GREAT when you've crashed into a vast body of water, probably teeming with sharks, and you've had the good sense and presence of mind to remember to remove your seat cushion and take it with you. You know, along with your children, and any other handy items you might want to keep with you while simultaneously swimming away from sharks with the one arm you have left after the crash and trying to NOT drown.

Another thing......why do flight attendants dress in tight little navy blue polyester dresses accessorized with pearls and heels? What the fuck is that? How is a smartly-dressed, petite woman who weighs 93 pounds soaking wet supposed to help save MY life? Those women (and men) should be wearing survival suits and a tool belt filled with essentials like pocketknives, granola bars, emergency beacons and water bottles. Plus, sensible shoes. If I'm going down with the plane and there is ANY chance of survival, I want a cast member of Survivor with me, not perfectly-coiffed Tammy from Dallas with her acrylic nails. Although, those could come in handy peeling tropical fruit should we be lucky enough to land on an island.

But the worst possible casualty (see what I did there?) of plane travel is the claustrophobic boredom of a long flight. Full disclosure: I have never traveled much more than 6 hours at a time on a plane which is why I am certain I will never make it to Europe or anywhere outside the United States unless they knock me out and keep me sedated until landing. I go absolutely stir-crazy when I have to sit for any length of time. I bring my entertainment, I attempt to nap, I read, but in the end, I make myself crazy waiting for those blessed words "We've begun our final descent into......" Those words are never so sweet. Unless they ARE our final descent, in which case I can only say "I told you so!"

Air travel. It's for the birds.

Why I hate air travel............

We just took a fabulous vacation to Disneyland and it was amazing except for the fact that we had to fly on an airplane to get there. I absolutely loathe air travel. Here are the many reasons:

- Security. Our first encounter with security resulted in Hayley "forgetting" the 3 ounce rule and bringing two full-sized products in her suitcase which was a carry-on. The TSA associate very snottily told her to throw them away, stat. She freaked (how is a girl to live without her Pond's Face Cream and Twilight Woods spray?) and I told her to just go check her luggage. $20 later. For products that probably cost the equivalent of......well......$20. Sigh. Then, I said to Jeff  "I should probably take my belt off, huh?" and he said "nah, it won't set off the metal detectors" but he was wrong and I had to go back through a second time. Next, I was asked by a stout TSA agent who barely spoke English to put my bag in the little "does your bag fit?" contraption, AFTER I had already flown on two flights. DUH! Of course it fits! Or else I would not have been able to take it with me on the two previous flights. Then, there was the matter of being faced with paying TWICE for Hayley's bag to be checked on the way back, but she was still unwilling to part with her beloved products so I spent fifteen minutes in the airport bathroom dumping out cheap Suave shampoo and conditioner to refill the 3 ounce bottles with face cream and body spray. Good times. I used a ballpoint pen as a tool to transfer said products. It was messy. And ridiculous. Then, four out of the six of us got the full body scan. And when we arrived at the gate, again, after taking three previous flights with the same luggage set up, I was told my purse would have to go into my luggage because I was carrying "three" items on the plane. I explained I had taken two previous flights with this same set up, but they said it was "FAA regulations" and so now I know "FAA regulations" only means "if you feel like enforcing them". GAH! I hate it.
- Interminably long terminals, gate changes, and idiot agents who don't know that their airline, Delta, also operates Sky West.
- Alaska Airlines for not making it crystal clear that we were going to make part of our trip on a commuter airline operated by another carrier.
- Alaska Airlines for upholding their "20 minute rule" for luggage not arriving promptly with a voucher for "$20 off" your next flight - that you can't use unless you have a computer and printer to print the voucher for the next leg of your trip.
- The absurdly close proximity to other people in the plane. I cannot stand the cramped quarters and feeling trapped when I'm in a plane. I much prefer my minivan, my blankie and pillow, my plethora of activities and snacks, my Starbucks in the cupholder and my husband driving.
- The laughingly small back of "snack mix" offered to you during the drink brigade. 1/2 ounce of crackery goodness stuffed into a miniscule bag. But hey! Eat them one at a time and they seem like more.
- Cups with no lids on planes with turbulence.
- Turbulence. HATE IT.
- Snippy flight attendants who say things like "put your bag in an open overhead bin". Duh.  I've tried putting it in a closed one and try as I might, it NEVER goes in. Imagine that.
- Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
- Cattle lines to get on the plane.
- Consistently poor intercom systems on planes. So that "we're starting our descent into Seattle" sounds like "mmsta..scen...le".
- The general feeling of not having control over anything from the time the plane leaves to whether the pilot manages to keep the plane in the air.
- Prices. It's sickeningly expensive for a family of six to fly anywhere at any time. And the prices change by the minute.

Basically, I hate everything about air travel. Give me a good, long road trip anytime.