
An airplane makes no sense to me. It's a heavy metal missile held together by duct tape, for all I know, and very, very heavy, which seems fine when it's on the ground, but up in the air it's about as reasonable as me flapping my arms and achieving lift off. Unfortunately, in order to travel to where I want to go, I must occasionally ignore all of this, avoid anything in the news that is vaguely related to airplanes, and climb aboard for a destination that is not readily accessible by foot or car.
I know of a woman who downs a Valium with a beer before every flight and then proceeds to pass out during the trip. Which she says works really well. Unless the plane is delayed. And, as we all know, planes are often delayed. So I haven't actually tried that approach to plane travel.
My whole life I've been slightly afraid. My mom told me not to ride the mini bike. I wouldn't be able to control my brother's mini bike. I might get hurt on the mini bike. So I rode the mini bike and guess what? I fell off.
I've skied out west in Big Sky, Montana. Not even on a big hill, just one of those smaller slopes that the big mountain side looks down upon like an A-list actress to an understudy. It was all I could do to not cry, take off my skis and slide down on my butt.

Not so long ago, Sam and I invited friends over to dinner. They brought along a video called Fire in the Sky, the supposedly true story of an alien abduction. Okay, so it was 17 years ago. I just looked up the movie and it was released in 1993. My point, however, is that I was an adult in my later 20s. And I was deathly afraid of being abducted by aliens. So I did what any reasonable host would do and after dinner I went into our bedroom, covered my head with a pillow and hummed loudly enough that I wouldn't hear the movie in the other room.
The next morning I called my mom and confessed how scared I was of being abducted by aliens. She paused for a moment and said the one thing that made me stop worrying. She said, "Alison, why do you think they would want you?" Being the reasonable person I am, I realized from that point on that aliens really wouldn't want me. It was liberating, that realization.

Germs scare me.

Partially hydrogenated oils scare me. Although it's kind of fun to say.
And yet, what's a girl to do? I'm still going to fly. Without Valium. If my family wants to go out west and ski, I'm with them. Shopping. Mini bikes no longer hold any appeal, aliens-who-don't-want-me have ceded popularity to hot-vampires-who-don't-want-me, I wash my hands almost compulsively, and I still drink the occasional Coke. And enjoy it.
Call me what you will...scaredy cat, chicken, lilly-livered, or Nervous Nellie, you either live life or avoid it, and I'm choosing to show up, knees knocking, trying new things and going new places.
If you don't hear from me in awhile, it's most likely I've been abducted. Send help.