I was on a super bumpy flight recently. And as the turbulence shook me in my seat and reduced me to somewhat irrational tears, all around me calm passengers by the dozen slept peacefully. I looked out the window to reassure myself that we weren’t going to hit anything. Of course we were the only big bird in the sky as far as the watery eye could see, but still the shaking continued- yes, both me and the plane.
Then I checked the flight map on the mini-TV screen to see how much air time was left. Sometimes this little exercise helps me manage myself knowing that the clock is ticking and eventually I will deplane, decompress, and soon forget my temporary moments of uneasiness.
In times of quiet panic like these, I tend to think about unfinished business. Like did I make my bed before this trip? (Kidding of course. I always make my bed. Ditto for no dirty dishes in the sink. My Mother would kill me!) Would a quart of strawberries lie wilting in my fridge were I to be permanently detained? Have I accomplished enough to be satisfied with my life if it were to suddenly be lights out?
Sometimes I negotiate or make declarations when the bumps get scary. Like “I promise that this time I’m swearing off gluten forever if we could just return to smooth air.” Or “Ok, I’m going to do my expenses this weekend AND make 50 calls a week to prospects if the pilot can shave 20 minutes off the total flying time. I’ll even increase my workouts to four times a week!”
When I first took this job and I knew I’d be spending more time in Delta’s Comfort Plus section rather than on the Upper West Side, I decided that the time spent in air was to be mine. I could sleep, watch movies, zone out, make lists, blog, read or even work– but only if I wanted to. And if air travel infringed upon hours that extended beyond the traditional work day, I’d be comfortable flexing my time another day should I have an emergency– like needing a haircut, having an empty fridge, or wanting to stock up on toilet paper. I also knew that I’d be in for a certain amount of turbulence– it comes with the job.
I am a list maker and a counter of most things. And the way I figure it, I have between 300 and 400 months left. I’m estimating that less than 200 will be spent working if I continue to love the job. And the remainder of the months… I have no f*ing idea. Write another book? A screenplay? Move to Paris with Michael? Take up knitting? Hit one million words in blog posts? Sample olive oil from every region in Italy one delicious crusty baguette at a time? See! I’ve already broken my no gluten promise. Clearly mid-air negotiations by me cannot be trusted.
Like it or not, the clock is always ticking. Thankfully for me, this is true while I’m flying. The trick is not to let time fly by without something to show for it besides white knuckles on the armrest. It’s always a good time to get busy living!
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