I'm on vacation in California. For a week. By the time I go home, I will have been on 8 airplanes. Eight. I have never done such a thing in all of my life. Thing is, my cousin and his wife, who I'm staying with, live near Santa Barbara. So I'm here. But then my friend Rekha got married in San Francisco. So I flew there. I changed planes a lot. My vacation looks like this:
Dec. 23: Boston to LA, change planes. LA to Santa Barbara. (2 planes)
Dec. 26: Santa Barbara to LA, change planes. LA to SF. (2 planes)
Dec. 28: SF to LA, change planes. LA to SB. (2 planes)
Dec. 30: SB to LA, change planes. LA to Boston (2 planes)
The great thing is that I seem to have gotten over my anxiety around flying. I didn't have to go to my "special place" in my head once. I did still locate the exit nearest me, though, in the event of an emergency. Gotta have something.
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