I have to go get on a plane to Portland in a few hours, and I am already tensing up.  It will be the longest flight I’ve taken since we went to Europe two years ago.  Everyone who knows me, knows that more than anything else, I hate to fly.  A friend of mine recently had a traumatic flying experience, and she said one of the first things she thought once she was safely on the ground was… “I can’t wait to tell Katie about this.”  I get that a lot.

I actually think I’m getting better about flying, but that’s not really saying much.  I never let it hold me back though.  I’ve done my fair share of traveling, and although I moan and whine about flying, I always still get on the plane.  My desire to explore the world is greater than my need to stay on the ground, apparently.  But I also avoid flying whenever possible, and have started using Amtrak a lot since I moved up North.  Which is kind of ridiculous when you think about it.  I would rather sit on a train for nine hours than hop on a plane for an hour flight to my mom’s in North Carolina.  But, of course, fears make you do irrational things like that.

I am very excited to explore Portland, a city I’ve never been to.  It will be my first trip to the West Coast in years and years and years.  But I’m not looking forward to sitting white knuckled for six hours, holding the plane up.  It’s exhausting, that.

I should have internet in Portland, and I will try to keep up with work/blogging/etc but I may be a bit slower than normal, so please be patient if you send me an email, and I don’t reply immediately.

(And think good thoughts for my fiance, John, since he’s the poor guy that has to travel with me, and deal with my crazy fear of flying mania until we land in Portland tonight.)