Obviously I made it alive or you wouldn't be reading this post

I write this from 26,000 feet in the air- on wordpad, of course, not the internet. I would never try to connect to the world wide web while on a plane- ever since seeing Soul Plane (not this century's greatest cinematic achievement, I know), I'm terrified of accidentally leaving my cell phone on when traveling the friendly skies and it causing the plane to explode mid-flight.

I am not what they in the industry would call 'a good flier'. I used to be a good flier- a great one in fact. I loved flying. I will never forget landing in Seoul when I flew to Korea seven years ago, after the longest. flying. experience. ever. Six-hour drive to Chicago. Couple hours sleep at the bro's apartment. One-hour drive to the airport. Four-hour flight to San Francisco. Five-hour layover /delay there. Twelve-hour flight to Korea, touching down almost 40 hours after I'd left Monroe. (and that wasn't even the end- the hold-up in Cali caused us to miss the last flight out to Pusan, and we had to spend the night in a hotel before making the one-hour trip the next morning.)

Anyway, when we finally landed in Seoul, on a clear, crisp night in November, I remember thinking "Holy wow. I'm in a DIFFERENT COUNTRY. I got on this plane in Michelle Tanner's hometown and I'm about to get off in South Korea". I was literally on the other side of the world, and the idea that a plane could do that- transport me across the planet in the span of half a day- was nothing short of magical.

But those days are long gone. As I've mentioned before, I seem to become more like my mother more with each passing day, and now I am a nervous flier . Statistics mean nothing to me, because unless you have a 100% success rate, there is always a chance that something can go wrong. Nobody gets on a plane thinking they're going to crash. It's ALWAYS A possibility.

The kicker is, I love everything about flying, except the actual in-the-air part. I love luggage and gift shops and reading a book in the waiting area and strangers in the seat next to me.

I've been particularly anxious about this flight, and by the time I was seated in row five, I was bent over in my seat, crying because it was the only thing that could release the tension. So I cried and I prayed and cried and prayed and when the flight attendant announced that they were beginning their in-flight service with adult beverages available for only $7.00, my tears came to an abrupt end.

Now, I am not one to spend seven dollars on anything (the last thing I purchased for that amount was a skirt from J. Crew, if that gives you any idea of my price threshold) but I'd just received my Christmas bonus earlier in the day and I figured if my plane was going to fall out of the sky and send me to the Happy Hunting Ground in the Sky (or in my case, the Happy Shopping Mall in the Sky) I figured the most authentically Catholic way for me to go out would be with a prayer on my lips and booze in my veins.

I drank that glass of wine like it was about to go bad, and by the time the flight attendant came back up the aisle after finishing her service (um. there were maybe ten rows behind me), I was already ready with my trash.

So I'm feeling pretty woozy, especially since I declined the complimentary pretzels, and the only thing I've eaten today was sushi for lunch, which I'm starting to regret, but at least if my plane crashes in a fiery explosion, my final thoughts will be recorded for all the world to enjoy.

On the bright side, now I can focus on the waves of nausea washing through my body instead of the crippling anxiety. God bless Cabernet.