It is about the destination, NOT the journey.

I am not a great flyer, which does not bode well for a gal who loves to travel. I mean I like getting to my destination, but sometimes I need to pull my big girl panties on when it comes to flying.

This stems from a few incidents in my past, which involves planes and my stupid head.

One incident occurred about 11 years ago when I was commuting to Melbourne to work for a few months. On a flight to Melbourne from Sydney, I took ill somewhere over Albury, or was it Wodonga? Anyway, I started breaking into the sort of cold sweat that one gets before having chronic diarrhoea. I used the latrine and sat back down, buckling up my seatbelt.

It was not long until I started shaking and sweating again, right about the time that the DING rang out, so say that we had commenced our descent and could crew please take their seats.

I had two choices. I could stay seated and quietly crap myself, or I could run and see if I could make it to the toilet.

I chose the latter, and bolted down the isle, bolted the door shut and, well… relieved myself.

The problem was, as I sat there, I could feel us descending, I could hear the wheels coming down, but no one could hear me silently screaming as we landed. Remember, there are no windows in plane toilets, and I was thrown around like a rag doll in a washing machine.

I waited until the plane finished taxiing back to the terminal, and took a deep breath. The DING went off, signalling everyone to madly un-lock their seatbelt and grab their stuff, before spending ten minutes standing there, doing nothing.

I swanned past the flight crew, before realising that I could not get back to my seat. When asked where I had come from, I told them, the toilet.

They told me how very dangerous that was. I told them the alternative was dangerous to the entire population of the plane.

So now, I get on the plane, have a few squirts of Rescue Remedy, knock back a wine or 4 and focus on the destination. Not the journey.

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Current Destination – The Stones Hotel Bali

How do you feel about flying?

Fear free or (figuratively) pant crapping?