I’m not scared of flying per se. It’s not the flying. It’s the clouds. It’s Roald Dahl’s cloud people from James and the Giant Peach. They scare the bejesus out of me. One angry cloud man and this little tin can is going to lose the fight with gravity.
You can laugh all you like, but I know grown men afraid of swimming because they believe somewhere in their deep subconscious that Jaws is going to swallow them whole.
I don’t see a white fluffy expanse of sugar candy. I see a battlefield. So forgive me while I breathe into my paper bag.
I’m late. I’m late. For a very important date…
I missed Friday. So here it is. Better late than never.