The Little White Bag

finally booked the flight/hotel/rental car for our family trip up north for a relative’s wedding a month from today.  Some family members made their arrangements for travel several months ago.  To my prone-to-procrastinating mind, this was befuddling.  What if Vien couldn’t get those days off?  What if something else came up that would change our specific plans?  What if…anything?  I love the idea of having plans in place early in the game, but I just can’t seem to do it.

As the weeks and months passed since we found out the date of the wedding, I got more and more questions about whether I’d booked our travel plans yet.  “Not yet, but soon,” I would answer.  This week, a mere month away from the big event, I knew I had to act or we’d end up on five different “puddle jumpers” up the East Coast.  As I talked about it with a friend, I began to realize that it wasn’t just procrastination.  It was fear.  I’m afraid of flying.  I’m not afraid of heights, but I am terrified of how I feel when I’m up in the air, especially the landing or any incidence of turbulence.

I have a history of terrible motion sickness.  You name the mode of transportation, and I’ve tossed my cookies on it.  Once I got sick to my stomach on a plane and train, both in the same day.  I’m a whole lot of fun as a traveling companion!  Most people look for a blanket or a magazine when they sit down in a plane.  The first thing I make sure I have within my reach is that little white bag tucked in the pocket in front of each (sometimes) seat.  I adjust the air vents so it will blow to its full potential during those wobbly, seemingly endless landings.

There is an alternative.  I can take two Dramamine pills, feel little or no motion sickness, but I won’t be able to hold my eyes open for hours after taking them.  This was all right when it was just Vien and me traveling, but with both kids in tow, that’s not fair to everyone if Mommy is out of commission for a 3+ hour flight.

I will most likely split the difference, take one Dramamine, and hope for the best.  Maybe things have changed or shifted within me since my last time flying a few years (has it been that long?) ago, and I’ll feel just fine…the kids will read/play quietly/sleep the whole trip, and even Vien and I will get to relax, talk, or close our eyes a little.  I’d settle for just not having to use that little white bag.

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