fear of flying

Okay, now I'm going to come off as a huge hussy, but frankly I could care less.

Yesterday morning, I sat next to a pilot on my return flight. Yes, I know. My first question was the obligatory, "What are you doing back here?" But he was merely hitching a ride to work and somehow we struck up a conversation that took us through the entire two and a half hour trip wheels up wheels down.

May I just say the best antidote to debilitating aviophobia has to be found in sustained and amicable conversation with a man in a pilot shirt. Something about those epaulettes. One cannot but be comforted.

Anyway, after we chatted circles around books and life—and he showed me what pilots actually carry around in their luggage (I'll never tell), after we shook hands and exchanged names with an awkward smirk, I gave him my card. Ballsy, right? ThanksIthinksotoo.

Brilliant part is? He emailed me last night from Boston. On his way to Austria.

Hot damn. Mama's on a hot streak.*


*Of course y'all know as well as I what's actually going on here. I just prefer to stay on the bright side of the road for as long as it'll hold me. Fair enough?