Every only child knows that we have both intense love and fear toward solitude.
It’s very ambivalent, kind of like when you colonize the entire bed by sleeping horizontally but reach out for your better half in the middle of the night because you’re just needy for a cuddle.
There’s one thing though, gosh I will never ever EVER enjoy doing alone. Flying, is ironically, something I do way too often by myself. Especially the long distance ones, the ones over 8 hours, with nobody to lean on when I sleep, and nobody to grab onto when there’s a god damn turbulence. Shaky flight is one of my worst fears. Though hard to be grateful, I do credit the goodness in my personality to the countless near death plane turbulences in my life.
A year ago I went to Canada with a boy. He’d flown into New York to meet me before Thanksgiving and even though the flight to Quebec City was only an hour and a half, I was still way too excited to finally have a flying buddy.
Things didn’t really go as planned. The plane was so tiny they put us next to each other in a vertical row so he sat right in front of me. I remember hugging the back of his chair so tightly during takeoff, desperately trying to get some sort of human contact. Now thinking about it that shit is just SAD AF. I might as well bring a pillow pet onto the plane for better emotional support.
Here I am today, a full year later, just got off a 15 hour flight to Beijing by myself, with a combination of Xanax, melatonin, downloaded Netflix, as coping mechanisms. Man I’m so tired of this flying alone bullshit.