Now I Can Be an Astronaut - a birthday story

Maybe it's because I watched about 200 episodes of Lost in one week to catch up to James, I don't know, but for a while now I have not been able to fly unless I am pickled.  And by pickled I mean a strong anti-anxiety something or other. I mean psychopharma at its best, the stuff that only psychiatrist can give you and that makes the pharmacist want to check your date of birth and ID. This stuff would kill horses and astronauts if they take too much.

I did not like the show, maybe cause of the overdose.
Of episodes.

I am not afraid of dying so much, the passing seems OK. It is the suffering slash panic that does me in.  The fear and the sweating and the realization that one may die in a bad way. That scares me. Like, what if the plane is going down AND YOU KNOW IT.

So when I boarded the plane to go visit Maxine whose 10-year birthday wish was I visit her, I took with me a bunch of pickles.  But James convinced me to take only one. I would have no memories of saying hello to Maxine otherwise when she met me at the airport.  So I tried.  Just one pickle, and a relaxation podcast on the I-pod.  It worked.

As we were to land at MIA I felt that relief you get when you see the wheels about to touch down.  I made it, I thought.

At that time the engine of the plane started sounding much, much louder, and the nose took a strange upward dog sort of turn.  We were taking off, and we had not even landed.

I imagined this is what happened.
Something was on the way of our landing.

The biggest surprise was my reaction. I started to laugh casually. Cool and controlled. I was Mary Poppins. I was peaceful and engaged in conversation with the man next to me whom I had not even noticed before in my half-pickled daze.

He told me about La Guardia and how it is best to never land there on a Friday night or Monday morning, cause the control goes cra-zy, just like it was at that moment.

I was all cheerful and sending vibes of peace to all people around me.  I was thinking about them. What?

So all this panic and when a potential plane crash presents itself I go flower power peace, how-can-I-help?  I even applauded when we landed the second time and got everyone else to join me.  Well not everyone else,  maybe 7 people.

Maxine was not really bothered to say hello with the pomposity I expected.  She is not that little 7 or 6 or 5 year old that would come running to my arms anymore.  She just said 'hi'. That was it.  I could have been triple pickled and it would not have mattered much.

So it took astronut drugs, a strange man, a birthday wish, powerful ashtanga energy, my leading a clapping session, and two landings. But I gave Maxine her birthday present. And I love her.