When I was a kid I flew a lot. My dad lived elsewhere – Brooklyn, Chicago, Washington D.C., Cleveland, Berkeley. I visited him for summer vacation, Christmas break, Spring break and other times. I loved flying. I got to board first and meet the pilot. The flight attendants gave me lots of attention and were very nice. I got cool airplane lapel pins and playing cards.

When I was in high school, I flew a lot. My dad lived elsewhere. I liked flying okay. I was on my own for a while. I could smoke cigarettes and feel cool in the airport waiting area. No adult supervision – just me, solo. Freedom.

I stopped flying so much once I got older. Now, when I fly, I don’t like it so much. I get anxious. Perhaps if I could still meet the pilots and get boarded first (and get some lapel wings!) I wouldn’t have such trepidation. But I do. Knowing that, I do what I can to mitigate the problem. I bring movies and books and xanax. I make myself as comfortable as possible.

To that end, today I bought a fleecy blanket! I am a little silly about it. I look forward to snuggling up with it in my tight little airplane seat.

Linus had it right.

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