Fly Baby Fly

I think it was my uncle Billy who tried to teach me how to fly. 

He would get me to stand on the arm of the sofa and concentrate really hard.  

He'd said,  "If you concentrate really really hard you'll be a flying master in no time." 

I'd jump off the arm of the sofa flapping my arms fast as I possibly could. I really believed I could fly. I believe Billy believed it too.

No amount of sweat or practice gave me any different results. I always plummeted to earth quickly.  How quickly?  [F = G*((m sub 1*m sub 2)/r^2)].  I think this guy Newton came up with that one.  

I never mastered flying. I practiced and practiced but it never happened. I'm sure it was my fault. I wasn't trying hard enough. I couldn't flap my arms fast enough.  

It's a good thing I was a kid and had limited intelligence or else I might have concluded I just needed a higher platform to launch from.  Luckily I learned about that whole gravity thing before opting for increased height. 

I do a fair bit of flying today. I'm not opposed to flying but IT IS a VERY unnatural act.  I proved that at a young age. (see above)

Every time I get on a plane, I thoroughly expect it to require bending over, putting my head between my legs, and kissing my derriere adios. Not just every once in a while but every single time.
 
So...

I'm left with two options.

Give up a lifestyle I'm very happy with (understatement) or get on the darn plane.  

The former isn't really an option. It ain't gonna happen.   

Therefore, I'm left with the flying thing.  

For me flying is an exercise in courage and faith.

• Courage because I fear flying and, of course, courage is necessary in the face of fear.  One doesn't exist without the other. They are the yin and yang of everyday life.
• Faith because I put my life in the hands of someone I don't know who has motives are unknown to me as well. I assume he wants the same thing I do but I can't be sure. Nevertheless, I step in a big sardine can hurling through the sky almost as fast as a speeding bullet.  
   -      Bullets don't really fly they are just propelled really really fast 150 to 1,500 MPS.
  They begin falling immediately once they escape the barrel. 
   -      A 747 flies at somewhere around 250-260 MPS.  
  Since I have proven that my individual flying prowess lacks a certain effectiveness, I'm at the mercy of the aerodynamic structure of the plane, the thrust that keeps it aloft and the buckaroo flipping all the switches up front.

Wouldn't it be nice if we could apply the same kind of courage and faith to other aspects of our lives. I sure do.  

I'll work on that one.  You might want to try it too. 

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