We are on our way home. Right now, I have my laptop on the tray attached to the seat in front of me as we hurtle through the air, thousands of feet above the ground, at speeds I can’t think about without hyperventilating.

I think that I must be single-handedly keeping this plane in the air through sheer force of will. We’re not going to crash. We’re not going to crash. We’re not going to crash. I have no idea how all of the other passengers can sit there so calmly, chatting with their neighbors and cracking jokes with the flight attendants. Haven’t they ever seen Lost? Don’t they know what HAPPENS to people who fly? You die, that’s what. You die or you spend the rest of your life fighting psychotic lunatics on an island out in the middle of freaking nowhere. I think we all need to be holding hands, chanting religious texts and maybe singing kumbayah. The lady sitting next to me doesn’t seem into that sort of thing, though. She’s just sitting there reading her stupid magazine, apparently not thinking about what it would feel like to explode. It would hurt a LOT, lady!

I think the reason flying scares me so much is because I have no control. In a car or boat or train, you still have the ability to take your life in your own hands if something goes wrong. But you can’t jump out of a plane. If something bad happens, you’re just screwed. Has anyone ever actually used their seat cushion as a flotation device? I bet that once you hit the water, there isn’t going to be enough of you left to hold on to anything.

Ok, let’s try some distraction… You know what I’m going to miss about California? The hotel breakfasts. I got very accustomed to eating two mini boxes of Special K cereal, one little cup of OJ, and a donut with sprinkles. The breakfast of champions, my friends.

Crap.

The fasten seatbelt light just came on. Please excuse me while I go freak the heck out.