The Night Before

17 Oct 07 2 Comments

I’m working on an article called Sylvia’s Mother at the moment (er, if you are my editor, read “working on” as “finishing off”. I swear you’ll have it by Friday) and wrote about my thoughts before taking my mom and my son up in the Saratoga.

This is from my initial draft. I can’t help but feel that the family flying magazine that the final article is aimed at would not appreciate this.

Every time I thought about it, I ended up with my heart in my throat. My mother and my son in the back of the light aircraft. If I mess up, it isn’t just me. They are trusting me to fly the plane – this plane that still scares the bejeebus out of me. What if I lose concentration and twiddle the vertical speed knob counter-clockwise instead of clockwise and the plane starts to dive dive dive down into the ground and we end up a fiery inferno on some Tuscan farm, last words of what-the-fuck?

I know this is ludicrous. I have, on one occasion, twiddled that very knob the wrong way. The moment the nose tilted down, I disengaged the auto-pilot and tilted it back up. No drama, we lost no more than fifty feet of height. I know the fear isn’t rational. But still. Are they out of their minds?!

So, it’s cut for now, although I might try to rewrite it in a more gentle fashion and re-insert it. First I need to go find out what a bejeebus actually is!

Categories: Excerpts, Writing,

2 Comments

  • LOL. I feel for you. Those irrational fears about stuff you know you can do suck. I’m watching my friend’s kids for 2 weeks. I’ve been driving since I was 16. But the first time I had to pile those kids in the car to take them to school, I was like, OMG what if I get in an accident??? (Which, of course, I didn’t, but there was that flare of initial panic all the same.)

  • Hah, when I had my son, I didn’t have a car. The first time someone came to pick us up and drive us somewhere, I went into total conniptions, begging the driver to go slower and overall being a total pain.

    It’s funny, isn’t it.

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