My recent airplane trip just reaffirmed my already huge apprehension to flying. I've pretty much decided that all the insane physical and emotional symptoms I conjure up due to my fear of flying outweighs the benefit of the trip. I'm totally bummed about it.
Secretly in the back of my mind I always thought that one day, one day far, far, far away when I get over my fear I could return to the beaches of Mexico and spend endless days lounging around the pool and having shirtless Pedro fetch me another Mojito, take the kids to meet all their childhood toy-friends in Disney World, spend our ten-year wedding anniversary sipping Merlot on the French Riviera.
I hate limitations - especially if I make them up. How crazy to think that silly mind games could stop a person in their tracks.
Guess I'll have to enjoy the French Riviera via the National Geographic channel and learn to mix my own Mojito's.
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