Fear of Flying

I’m not a terribly great flyer. In fact I normally cry during takeoff and landing. I was a little bit nervous about my business trip to San Francisco, especially because I was flying by myself and did not have a warm body that I could dig my fingernails into.

I left SGF on a “puddle jumper”. Interesting, but appropriate term. I sat next to a gentleman I shall call Frank. Frank was 60ish and smelled like scotch.

Upon take off I expressed my fear of flying to Frank. This was a mistake.

Frank said he has been flying for years and told me that he had no problem talking to me throughout the duration to take my mind off of flying. I thought to myself…that seems nice enough.

I thought this to myself before frank began the 3 hour saga of how he lost his middle index finger in a saw mill.

Frank described to me in graphic detail how his finger was sucked off of his hand and how he had to make the difficult decision of whether or not to keep his middle finger index bone…or saw it off. I almost vomited twice during this conversation. Was this really happening?

Frank looked surprised when I told him I did not have time to get a coffee (or gigantic glass of scotch) with him in the airport.