by Jim Crawford

Created on: August 11, 2008

I hate flying. Maybe it's because I don't like heights. I don't even like being this tall, and I'm only six feet.

In any case, until a few weeks ago, I hadn't flown in 10 years. I had had some bad times in the air, including a terrifying instance of "clear air turbulence." That's when the sun is shining brightly outside the plane, not a cloud in sight, but the plane is rocking and rolling as if it's moving to the beat of Quiet Riot's Greatest Hits. Then there was the time when we approached the St. Paul, Minnesota airport by first swerving down to the left, then down to the right, then left again, apparently out of respect for neighborhood noise concerns. I had no such respect. My screams canceled out any noise reductions from those maneuvers. When a wing dips, I flip.

To fully appreciate how much I would do to avoid flying, consider this true story of how I once journeyed from New Hampshire to a conference in Dallas, Texas, a trip that would have taken 3-4 hours by air: First, I took the overnight train for 30 hours to Meridian, Mississippi, arriving at 3 PM. I then drove a rental car for 10 hours, racing 500 miles on I-20 through the marshes of Mississippi, Louisiana and Texas, stopping only to clear the bugs off the windshield with an ice scraper every hour. I rolled into Dallas at 2 AM for the conference that started later that morning. Total trip time was just a few hours shy of two full days.

So you can see why I was anxious when I learned my wife and I had a wedding to attend in Denver in July. Normally very intelligent, she inexplicably prefers 4 hours of air travel to 43 by train and car. She gave me an ultimatum: either fly with her or find a good divorce attorney. Of course I immediately checked Amtrak's schedules. What I found sent chills up my spine: Getting to Denver from New Hampshire means going through Chicago, and the connection from Chicago to Denver doesn't run every day. Doing this one by train and car would take a full day longer than even the Dallas journey. She had me....and the butterflies I hadn't felt for 10 years were back.

As the flight date approached, I hoped for a last-minute stay of execution. Maybe the groom or bride would get cold feet. I thought about calling the bride anonymously and accusing the groom of infidelity or a fondness for pornography, but after a few weeks of indecision I opted not to since the groom was our son.

Finally, the dreaded day came. We drove to the airport. I kept looking in the back seat for the Grim

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