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I hate flying. I never understood why people felt this way--i used to love it. But after almost three years of flight benefits (aka ability to pick up and go somewhere on a whim) the novelty has worn off. Maybe its because I've gotten old. Maybe in three years I've aged exponentially, like a dog. I don't know what changed, but I guess I have a few ideas. One could be that I travel alone these days, which is much more boring. Even if my family didn't get seats together (which was frequent, as we flew standby), it was still fun to make a game out of communicating with family across the plane. Maybe its because I'm usually trekking across the country to go back and forth to school. As much fun as it is to live in Hawaii and have family in Florida, its not quite as exciting as going on vacation to another country. It is much easier to spend hours on a plane in anticipation of the unfamiliar and the adventures that could be there. The excitement of going back to school understandably pales next to that. Maybe even less than that is merely the time I spend on planes. Usually we were just going to New York or Boston for the day--short flights, 4 hours maximum. Honestly, even flying to Germany only took eight hours from New York, keeping flying time under telve hours. But these cross country hauls usually add up to 15-20 hours of flying time, not including layovers and such. The worst part of flying home is that they are always red-eyes, and I can't sleep on planes to save my life. Again, this was easier when I traveled with my family. I could sleep because I could, despite fervent protests, sleep on them. I'm less willing to rest my head on the shoulder of an unwilling (or even willing...)stranger. I've gotten creative with ways to sleep (all mildly uncomfortable at best) but regardless I awake after half an hour to tingling, slumbering limbs, a dry throat, and intense sinus congestion complete with a runny nose. I am fighting an uphill battle. There are honestly moments of my semi-concious states that I would prefer the plane to crash so that I would either die or scare my parents into never putting me on a plane again.
I have tried things to make the ride less painful-reading, listening to music, watching movies. But the physical constrictions make it near impossible to be content, which is something I usually don't have a problem with. The small box seats just dot work with my customary habits of lounging all over the place, putting my feet up on my desk, and draping my arms and legs at odd angles over every piece of furniture in the room. Let's be honest--even the first class seats make me feel like I'm a whale in a fishbowl. Don't get me wrong, I'm completely grateful for the opportunity we have to fly for free. I'm just not sure I agree with the whole idea that the fun is in the journey, not the destination. I don't want to enjoy the ride. I just want to teleport.

(Title from Danza Kuduro by Don Omar)

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