Some people have different kinds of phobias: fear of high, tight, or dark places, fear of being alone, fear of death… I must say that my fear is failure. However, on a less personal note, I must say that I secretly despise airplanes.

My flying experience started when I was 3 mo. old I believe, and we were flying to Miami for vacation. In those trips we’d visit my father, do some shopping, and enjoy the sunny Miami Beach. I must say I never understood why we couldn’t just go somewhere in our own country: I would’ve been cheaper, more convenient, and overall better for everyone! But, as many people from Venezuela did, I was a shared custom among my countrymen to fly to Miami as often as possible. I believe he trips reflected a personal achievement for the traveler and his/her guests.

Since the economy took a down fall in Venezuela and, if no one is earning any income in the household, money is bound to run dry, we took trips less often. I remember we flew in 1992, 1997, 1999, and I have flown by myself in 2007, 2010 with my son, and 2013 from NC to FL.

Leaving the house today, May 4^th, 2013 I’ve got everything packed: underwear, pajamas, clothes, shorts, flip flops, socks, toiletries… When I get o he airport, SURPRISE!: I had left my phone under my pillow. I managed to grab my phone holster but not the phone itself. My mother then was kind enough to go back home, get it, and bring it back to the airport. By the time of her arrival I was already aboard the plane and the TSA officer was kind enough to run I to my flight and the flight attendant handed it to me.

The most amazing part of the story isn’t how the TSA gentleman ran with my phone to the plane and attempted to pronounce my Hispanic last name correctly, but rather how in the world did my mother manage to talk to the him when she barely speaks any English and the he clearly did not speak any Spanish. Now, my mother has always said that she’d even speak Chinese if needed be!

This rocky start of my day came as no surprise to me: I have always had some kind of issues on my post 9/11 flights. Flights have been late, they overbook the plane, I get confused and go to the wrong gate and end up missing my flight… The latter happened today. As if I wasn’t bad enough that I have to fly out of a tiny regional airport in a plane that accommodates 24 people and transfer to another plane, I find myself all the way on the other side of the Atlanta airport, calling my boyfriend asking him “what do I do now?”

Luckily for me, I turned on my South American charm and explained to the lady at the ticket counter how I had missed my plane and needed to board the next flight. After my elaborate explanation, she blinked twice, typed for about 3 seconds on her keyboard and got me on the waiting list. I was able to board my flight 2 hours later than anticipated.

I truly dislike how airlines have had such budget cuts and don’t even feed you: they have a choice of cookies, pretzels, or peanuts. I wasn’t lucky enough to get the full menu on my connecting flight o Miami: I had to settle down for a bag of pretzels and a diet coke. I did manage to take advantage of their peanut bags on my first flight, though.

As of right now I am officially starving and have only had: 2 bags of peanuts, a bag of mini pretzels (yuck), 2 diet cokes, an apple juice, and a turkey wrap…

All in all my trip was ok: I arrived at my destination and no further harm was done. Except for when I was hungry and there was disagreement on the menu.But that’s a tale for another evening…

Thanks for reading & buenas noches,

-Wen