Why I hate Flying
In less than 24 hours I am going to be engaging in one of my least favorite activities. Putting my body into a hollow tube and letting people I barely know navigate it at hundreds of miles per hour through the air.
Now, I joke, I’m not actually one of those white-knuckle fliers that have seen William Shatner’s episode of The Twilight Zone too many times, but I do genuinely hate flying.
It is one of the great paradoxes of my life. I love traveling, I hate flying. If I could teleport myself and my luggage where I needed to go, I would be a world traveler in no time, no matter what the expense.
But as it is, I am stuck with flying and the headaches that comes with it. Though I know no one is particularly fond of air travel, I seem to have an especially strong aversion to it.
Why do I hate flying? Well, the reason starts even before you get to the airport.
