Trains, Planes, and Automobiles

My plans are made to go see my daughter and the grandbabies, and also to meet her new significant other. I’ve chosen the method of travel that seems the most sane in this world – train. I can go round trip on the train for what it would cost me in gas to go a little more than one way and I get pretty good gas milage. The only way I’m flying these days is if the trip is too far to do any other way.

I started out loving flying. I saw the ocean from the air before I ever saw it on the ground. In fact, the first time I did see the ocean on the ground I wondered where the white fluffy things that sat on the water (clouds) were. I remember nothing but enjoyment when we flew back from Korea, 33 hours in the air, my poor parents. I do remember feeling a little miffed because everyone told me we were going to stop in Hawaii and the only thing I saw in Hawaii was the inside of a windowless room where all us children were herded while our parents went through customs. I loved flying when I took a bus to Boston and then discovered I could fly back for just a little more money. Sixteen hours on a bus plus 2 hours in the New York terminal vs. an hour and a half in the air. It was heaven. It was pure decadence. When my first husband and I moved to New Hampshire we flew back home regularly. I’d bring my camera and fight for the window seat, taking lots of non-descript cloud photos through scratched plane windows.

Perhaps it was the time the plane hit turbulence, the seat belt sign stayed on for the entire trip, and I needed to visit the restroom in the worst way. Maybe it was all those small planes that I flew in when I worked the northeast installing and teaching software. I especially remember the one into Pittsburg where the seats looked like school cafeteria seats bolted to the floor and we bounced and rolled like never before. Maybe it was Air Florida hitting the 14th street bridge. Somewhere along the way flying got a little scary.

I went through a period of being afraid to fly and that slowly mutated into just not liking it but doing it anyway. I came to acceptance that when it is your time to go, it’s your time to go and quit being afraid of crashing.

Now there is a whole new fear, getting stuck on a plane for hours while it waits to take off. I’m not so afraid of getting stuck in a terminal. I’m pretty resourceful and I always have my camera with me so the idea of getting stuck somewhere interesting sounds kind of fun. But getting stuck on a plane for hours on end, stuffed into a tiny seat, with the bathrooms slowly becoming unusable, sounds slightly terrifying. And it is so much more inconvenient these days. I can’t check my camera and laptop because they might get stolen but they’re bulky and dangerously close to the carry on limits. I end up only carrying one camera and stuffing it into the laptop carrier with my purse and now I’ve got so much delicate electronics rubbing against each other that I’m afraid to put it in the overhead bin. Not to mention trying to take off my shoes, keep an eye on the laptop, the other eye on the camera, and get through the metal detector.

The train – it sounds so civilized…