I’m a basketcase when it comes to planes.
Ten years of perfectly safe family trips overseas, midwest weddings and other vacation destinations necessitating air travel haven’t seemed to cure my anxieties. (You would think that some correlation would exist between frequent flyer miles and the ability to relax at 30,000 ft in the air.) So I’m on a first name basis with the jetBlue check-in crew and yet still “that girl” saying her 4th Hail Mary upon liftoff.
However, I have managed to find the silver lining. During the distribution of drinks, I always order a ginger ale. I had hoped that it’s soothing properties would help settle my nerves and tame the crazy. And it worked, in a very unexpected way. Instead of focusing on my certain death (trapped in a tin can, next to a seatmate incapable of listening to the musical stylings of Nickelback under 180 decibels) I am able to be comforted by the familiar drink on my tray.
Sparkling with light from the window, the champagne tinged bubbles twinkle with a subdued but powerful force. I often find myself staring at the glass of ginger ale, long after the descent, even when the flight attendant is making her third rounds to collect trash, not wanting to part with my secret stash of flying confidence.
It’s never the quite same on the ground. Because after exiting the aircraft, the dulcet tones just don’t connect. Sure, the liquid is bubbly and the taste is refreshingly carbonated. Thanks to additives, the champagne coloring is even the same. But you can’t see that shimmer, that radiant glow that screams anything but neutral.
And that everything will be alright.
Clockwise from Right: DKNY Chrono Watch, Jimmy Choo Platinum Clutch, Zara Terez Leather Bubble Clutch, J.Crew Pearl Earrings, Schumacher Trellis fabric, Etsy White Sapphire Diamond Ring, Yosi Samra Gladiator Sandals