I have been 1.8th of the way to the moon —

scottyFrom a true geographical stand point, the farthest I’ve ever traveled from home (the one I have here on Earth) is approximately 4,295 miles (Chicago to Honolulu). Which, according to the city distance calculator at geobytes.com, is an “as the crow flies” estimate, so in all actuality the true distance is bound to be a bit farther. Regardless, it’s a touch more than going from Seattle to Washington, D.C., and back again. Or, for the truly foreign among us, about 1.8th of the way to the moon.

I’ve never been much of traveler … not in the nomadic sense anyway—but not because I don’t want to see other places or discover new things, new people, new ways of being … but because when it comes right down to it, unless I can click my heels together or have Scotty beam me somewhere, I don’t get too excited about the other forms of transportation available; especially for long distances. Yea. I admit it. I hate to fly. There. I said it. I am a wuss. And now I’ve said that too.

I mean listen, I understand displacement theory and I get speed and acceleration, but when I look at an airplane or a multi-ton steel cruise ship, it just doesn’t make any sense that one can float, and the other fly. Fish are supposed to float. Birds are supposed to fly. Not gigantic, man-made transport machines. Am I right? Throw me a damn bone someone!

To be clear, I do fly (recall those 4,295 miles from Chicago to Honolulu) but I try my best to avoid it as much as possible. 

Oh, and just in case you’re curious, when it comes to traveling via cruise ships, nah. I saw the titanic. I don’t care what you say about radar and technology and science and blah, blah, blah … it’s just not for me. Really. There is not enough Dramamine in the world nor enough vodka to calm me enough to make me climb on board. At least if I fly somewhere I can wake up on land.

And so, here I sit. I may have to be drugged one day so I can finally go to Spain, the Amalfi coast, the Vatican, the Great Wall of China, the Forbidden City (all places that intrigue me) but for now, at least I’ve been 1.8th of the way to the moon. So until I get my own pair of ruby-red slippers, for now, I guess that will have to do.

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DISCLAIMER: I’m a writer and an editor. And I try my best to make sure every post is articulate and free from errors. However, being that I edit my own work—and it’s next to impossible to properly edit your own work—I admit, occasionally there may be an error or two I miss. But doing so doesn’t make me an idiot so don’t be mean. Just smile, pat yourself on the back for finding an error and be glad you’re not the only one who makes mistakes sometimes … xoxox

10 Comments Add yours

  1. Arpita says:

    Hi Shauna! I have always been fond of flying – but get nightmares days before and days after the flight about missing the flight. They get pretty much horrible.

    Meanwhile, this February I am publishing a non-fiction on Fear. As I weave my way there, I am planning to host a couple of guest blogs on fear In Jan ’17. If you’re interested, I’ll be more than happy to host you. Read more about the requirements , here

  2. Wow. Yeah…I relate to so much of this. Nothing spikes my anxiety quite like flying. For me though, I haven’t always been this way. I was a flight attendant for an international airline for five years and bopped all over the world without a care. But…things change. Now I’m more into regional hot spots. I say I’ll get back in the air or take a cruise, but I know doing so will require some emotional work & likely strong drugs. Happy holidays and all the best to you in 2017!

  3. Jaye's Brain says:

    I hate those little eight-legged bastards! Right there with ya! Going back is BRAVE!

    1. SHAUNA says:

      oops they do have eight legs not six … my bad :)

  4. Olga Brajnović says:

    agh! I hate spiders. Good luck with your next trip :)

    1. SHAUNA says:

      Thank you – it will be colder there this time so hopefully all the big bugs will have dug down into the ground for hiding :)

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