I like airplanes.
Airplanes make me think of
the Berlin Airlift,
the Cold War,
breaking the sound barrier,
Nightmare at 20,000 Feet,
and other good thoughts.
Flying is a different story.
For a while there, every time I flew, I honestly thought I was going to die.
As we took off, I'd think,
"Well, this is it. My last moments."
It's not so bad anymore.
Now I can handle taking off.
And turbulence is actually my favorite part.
(Especially when I hear the word in President Uchtdorf's voice in my mind's ear.)
I'm always convinced the pilot won't be able to find the runway
and we'll crash land in a lake.
But flying is sort of fun.
I always sit on the left side of the plane.
Window seats are a must.
'Cause not only can you look out the window, you can also lean up against the wall and fall into that half-conscious doze which is one of the other best things about flying.
I never let myself fully fall asleep because I don't want my mouth to hang open.
See, it looks silly.
I always plan to read books on the plane, but I just end up thinking and dozing and listening to music. It's nice to be able to sit there for several hours without being expected to do anything.
I used to hate talking to the person next to me on the plane,
but now it's not so bad.
Sometimes the person next to you is an Asian minister who asks you if you're a woman of faith.
Sometimes the person next to you has an Irish wife and two "little monsters."
(Lady Gaga, anyone?)
But best of all you get free soda.
Why does ginger ale taste better on planes than anywhere else?
(I think this is the most pointless blog post I've ever written.)