About to begin
Trip Start
Jul 21, 2002
1
4
Trip End
Jul 31, 2002
I don't really remember much about the days leading up to the trip, but I know I was nervous as hell. My Dad kept mentioning during my senior year of college that he was planning a trip for the whole family, and would I be interested? I kept saying that I didn't know, I would have to find a job and might not be able to take the time off, mainly because I was scared to death of flying. My Dad bought six tickets anyway, figuring that if I couldn't make it one of my sisters' friends could come. Luckily, I came to my senses early that summer (and also I couldn't find a job) and agreed to go. When I actually got hired by the post office right before the trip I had to go in and tell them that I had a prior commitment (after all, it took like a month and a half for all the paperwork to clear). So I was going to Europe for sure, and I hadn't been on a plane for over 5 years at this point. That's a long time to let your mind drive you crazy with thoughts of free-falling from 35,000 feet.
Then the flight itself didn't help. We got on the plane and I prepared myself for a 7 hour flight from Cleveland to London. Then the pilot got on the horn and told as that since a part of the exterior of the plane was 'broken' we'd have to get on a new plane - in New Jersey. Great, an hour flight in a broken plane. It was a bumpy one at that. My Dad, in his infinite parenting wisdom, didn't help things at all. When I asked him (he flies all the time) if such a bumpy ride was normal (hoping for a reassuring 'yes, of course, this is no big deal at all), he told me 'no, not at all, in fact maybe only 5% of plane rides are this bad'. Great.
Then the flight itself didn't help. We got on the plane and I prepared myself for a 7 hour flight from Cleveland to London. Then the pilot got on the horn and told as that since a part of the exterior of the plane was 'broken' we'd have to get on a new plane - in New Jersey. Great, an hour flight in a broken plane. It was a bumpy one at that. My Dad, in his infinite parenting wisdom, didn't help things at all. When I asked him (he flies all the time) if such a bumpy ride was normal (hoping for a reassuring 'yes, of course, this is no big deal at all), he told me 'no, not at all, in fact maybe only 5% of plane rides are this bad'. Great.

