Not Leavin' on a Jet Plane

Uncle, uncle. Unlike some others I know, I am not cut out to be a road warrior; I've long battled a fear of flying. Hell, the joke is that I can't even handle being on an airplane unless there is a promise of palm trees and tropical drinks on the other end.

But, in the past two weeks, I've been forced to make two one-day trips to somewhat-distant cities via plane. Nothing beats getting up at an ungodly hour to take the first possible flight out, and return back to NYC less than eight hours later. At the end of each trip, I was barely coherent and locked in a fetal position in the cab ride home.

You want to see a wonderful sight, really?: Watch me during take-off and you'll see that my knuckles turn an odd shade of white as I grip the armrests for dear life. I'm sure that wild-eyed look of panic I display only adds to that wonderful scene.