A Wee Wei

I'm going to France.
and I'm getting paid for it.
My good buddy Smith called me up yesterday and said that his company needs an extra shooter to cover the Motocross Des Nation Event in Ennen (sp?) France. The shoot won't be until the end of September, but I'm excited. We will be flying directly to Paris, which I'm not so excited about.
You see, I Don't fly to well.
I have been flying in planes since I was about 8 months old.My mother and I would fly to Canada to visit relatives. Then thru the years I have had to travel a lot for work. I even went to Europe with some friends in 2000. No problem for this jet setting guy.
Then I flew out of Allentown, Pa.
The Allentown airport is tiny in comparison to Hartsfield her in Atlanta, with only 1 spoke at the time of this flight. We arrived to fly home and the place was desserted, I mean empty, ours being the last flight of the night. Thsi unto itself was a little unnerving if not surreal. Our flight is delayed by about 2 hours so we are the only flight left to take off in the place. There was about 15 passengers waiting when the plane finally landed, disgourging it's cargo. And this cargo looked BAD. The people coming off that flight had just found religion in the most desperate of times, or so it appeared. Then it's our turn to lift off into the wild blue yonder, except the yonder on this day was real grey with low visibility. 10 minutes in to the flight we hit a little turbulance.
Then some more, then some more. I set my book down in the seat next to me and closed my eyes to coach my way thru this. Things settled down and I began to relax when my stomach left the building. It was not one of those 'I lost my stomach going down that big hill' type things either. It hurt. The book I had laid in the seat next to me was now floating at eye level and my ass was no longer in the seat. This lasted about 5 seconds and then abated , then happened again. I thought to myself,' this will be a lead story in Allentown and a blurb on the 6 O'Clock news in the rest of the country'. Shit, so much for being famous, or rich or just getting to touch a woman again.
All the while my panic is growng and I think about my coming demise, the plane is beggining to settle down. This I don't notice because I am other wise (thinking of death, you see) occupied.
Then it happens, that gruff heavenly voice from above...
"This is the captain speaking, sorry bout that shake up there folks, we got routed into the storm by mistake, and I have to say in my 24 years of flying that was the worst turbulance I've been through, we're back on track now and should be smooth sailing till Atlanta, thank you."
I am writing this, so you know that I surrived, but I hope that this illustrates my distaste for flying.
But drinks on international flights are free...
Keep the drinks coming stewardess, keep em coming.