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CFS| Chronic Fatigue Syndrome

It’s plane, I hate flying!

Posted by amber | My Diary | Posted on August 7th, 2011

I hate flying. And most of all in those small planes. I always console myself that you are closer to the earth in the smaller ones and they can glide, so your chances of survival are alot better. BUT I still feel ill the whole time. Plus you experience the weather first hand and up close and personal. Sometimes I pretend I am on a motor boat in the ocean going really fast, but that image doesn’t last to long and I am praying for it all to end.

Now big planes are really not much better. If they drop out the sky into the sea or onto land you are not going to survive, despite all the info cards, oxygen marks, the slide and escape routes. Anyway probably crashing is least of ones worries. Do you have any idea the amount of germs that must be on your plane seat? The seats are generally covered in rough fabric, ideal for rubbing off skins cells; absorbing bodily juices; great for dandruff to cling to; never mind that there must be fleas and/or bed bugs. And its a perfect breeding ground for all sorts of diseases – warm, moist!!!! Oh my hat!

And then to the food and the airline stewards!! That could kill you to. The smell of the food cooking in the kitchen actually turns my stomach. And then we have the ever helpful stewards. They really don’t care. They think they are at the Ritz meanwhile they are basically behind the counter at McDonalds serving the ungrateful masses. Not even the alcohol can take the edge off. Before i got CFS I would chase a Myprodol with a glass of champagne, now I cant do that. Very frustrating.

And then you have to wait for the “entertainment” to be turned on! And hold your breath for the splendid selection of movies … enough to make you take your own life. But just as you are settling into reruns of Friends, you need the bathroom. Or should we say ‘small cabinet’. You squeeze yourself  in and try to avoid the wet patches on the floor. What could they be!!! Then you cover the seat with copious amounts of loo roll, because balancing above the toilet in turbulence is not possible. Still in a tizz you flush … and flush again… and flush again. Despite the fact that the suction is so hectic it could suck your eyelashes off, it doesn’t really work at all on the goods it should. Panic! Fill a plastic cup with water and chuck more liquid in the loo. Please God this works because no one can come in here after this. Eventually covered in sweat and near hysterical you extricate yourself from the cubicle and everyone knows, because if the flushing noise didn’t give it away the red light has turned to green!

Aah, at last you settle into your chair. Time to sleep. You snatch a extra pillow and try and pad the morgue table you have to sleep on, other wise you might develop scoliosis . It does not help. And to make matters worse you hit turbulence and everyone else is asleep. You lie there in full blown hysteria. “Can no one else feel we are going to drop from the skies?!@#$%” You try calming breathing techniques; meditation and as a last resort you try all religious incantations you know from when you were at your Convent school! You cross yourself; promise to do something really good for charity when you land safely … And then calm prevails.

Now I have come to the following conclusion. Flying is not safe. I do not like flying and I never will. All the safety drills will not help. But if I am going to be discovered after the crash I should look devastating not devastated. So dress to the nines. Wear your best outfit, killer heels and put on the full death mask. Go down gorgeous!!!