Pre-flight Ritual

I was feeling pretty good about the whole flying thing as I shuffled over to my window seat. The Bacardi buzz had kicked in a treat and as I cast an eye over my fellow passengers their light hearted banter put me further at ease. I buckled up and watched the Kid do the same and then began my own little pre flight ritual.

'Barf Bag, check, Bacardi and Coke, check, slightly interesting yet mostly fluffy in-flight magazine, check, amusing crash landing scenario card, check, a resident of Prague, Czech.'
'Paul?'
'Yes Kuks'
'You're really starting to annoy me now.'
'Easy tiger, don't you go air raging on me.'

Then the moment of truth, the moment of panic. The taxiing was over and this baby was about to get airborne. I looked at the Kid, he looked back, we both looked kinda pathetic. The engines started that high pitched whining and then the rumble kicked in as we felt the full force of gravity thrusting us back in our seats, then the tipping sensation, then the momentary feeling of weightlessness. The dry mouth and the sweaty palms are a given. The over-exaggerated look of outer confidence, the overwhelming feeling of inner queasiness. Then the cloudy turbulence and a change in engine pitch, then an unexpected dip to the right, followed by another to the left, then the levelling out. Then the double ping of the seat belt light. Then I was fine.

Let me explain. That light to me is omnipotent, all knowing. If we're in trouble, that light's gonna have the inside dirt, it's like a messenger from God. And that light is on during takeoff for a reason, and that reason my friends is DANGER. So when that light flicks off I'm generally a new man.