Prayers on a Plane

I hate flying.  Hate it.  Truly hate it.  It puts me in a foul mood.  It ranks right up there with trips to the gynecologist and paying taxes.  When I flew to Michigan this past week – the early morning flight was pretty unremarkable, but I am a nervous flyer and I said a great many prayers.  Here is a sampling:

ଓଡ଼ିଆ: କଳା କଫି

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)


Please, God.  Let there not be any knives in my purse like that time in St. Louis when they discovered a jack-knife my father-in-law had given me and that I had forgotten about and which I already transported (undetected) into St. Louis.  (There were no weapons discovered in my carry-on belongings this trip.)

Please, God, do not make me be subjected to intense security screening (groping) prior to my getting some coffee.  I much prefer to be caffeinated (or inebriated) during an involuntary grope session.  (I was not groped by security – but the coffee service left me feeling dirty).

Please, God, let Great American Bagel Bakery go bankrupt for charging more for coffee than their posted prices – “we just haven’t had a chance to change our sign, Sorry.  Do you want the coffee or not, ma’am?”.  (So far, they have not gone bankrupt, and yes, I did want the damned coffee).

Please, God, do not let me jump over this counter and throttle the youngster (aren’t there child labor laws?) who served me a “large” over-priced coffee, roughly the size of a shot glass that contained approximately 3 1/2 teaspoons of coffee.  When I asked for the rest of my “large black coffee”, this miscreant actually said to me “I left room in case you wanted to add cream and sugar”.  Maybe I have been drinking black coffee all wrong for many years.   Maybe if you need that much room for cream and sugar you shouldn’t call yourself a coffee drinker, you should just confess your cream and sugar addiction and get out of my way.   Maybe the manager was a little insincere with his apology when he finally filled the cup all the way to the top, which then spilled out with my first sip and soiled my new blouse. Maybe karma is a bitch.  Maybe it’s me.  (No one was throttled and the blouse was salvaged.  The coffee, however, worked out to be about $64/gallon.)

Please, please, please dear God – do not let the woman squeezing pimples on her forehead in the ladies restroom sit next to me on the plane.  I will jump without a parachute, I swear.  She had dreadlocks, bad acne – now bloody – and an aroma that was a mixture of curried goat, week-old sweat, August road kill and cigarettes.  I. Will. Jump. (She did not sit next to me, and I did not jump).


Dear God – please let those in first class get smacked with every single piece of luggage of those passing to the cheap seats because they insist on boarding first (that’s a privilege?) and then look disdainfully down their noses as the riffraff passes. (I don’t know if that happened, but I did let my laptop swing behind me down their aisle).

Please, God.  Do not let that young woman with the little kids sit in our row.  That little guy is pulling his ear.  Probably has an ear infection and will scream the whole way.  And that other one looks like trouble.  Oh, dear Lord.  Across the aisle from us.  Oh, man.  I need a cigarette.  Wait.  I don’t smoke. (The children were beautifully behaved – much better travelers than me.)

Oh, Dear God.  Here comes acne/dreadlocks/aroma gal.  Whew…seated many rows in front of us.  (Perhaps her seatmates were all stuffed up – no one jumped.)

Please, God, let the pilot be sober. And let him have had his coffee.  And a good night’s sleep.



runway (Photo credit: myrrh.ahn)

Oh, Dear Lord – please let this baby get off the ground.  We’re going to run out of runway…we’re going to run out of runway…we’re going to run out of runway. (We did not run out of runway.)

Please, please, please dear God – let whoever farted in this plane go sit by acne/dreadlock/aroma gal.  And no, it was not the infant in our row – his mother took him to the bathroom to check.  Whomever it was should probably go visit a gastroenterologist, though, because I’m pretty sure something is dead in there.

Oh, Dear God – please let the pilot put this thing down gently. We’re going to run out of runway…we’re going to run out of runway…we’re going to run out of runway.  Pull up, for the love of Captain Sullenberger – pull up!!!    (We did not run out of runway, and I never felt the wheels touch – just heard the engines reversing to slow the plane.)


Dear Lord, please let me be grateful for such an uneventful flight and let me be sedated for the return trip.


Filed under humor, Uncategorized

49 responses to “Prayers on a Plane

  1. Take an evening flight. It’s much more acceptable to drink on those.

  2. Amen sister! Back before they confiscated any liquid greater than 4 oz, I used to bring a pint of liquid courage for any and all flights, regardless of the time of departure. I’d buy a tomato juice or OJ and spike that bad boy. Nowadays, I just grip the armrest and hope for a quick death.

    • Ah, the good old days. Now I know what those little tiny bottles of liquor are for that the liquor store was selling, I could easily get those in my 1 quart zip lock bag of fluids. Who needs toothpaste, deodorant or lip gloss?

      • i never fly with lip gloss…i treat myself to a new tube of it when i get to my destination – it’s my own little reward for surviving another flight without crying or valium

        • Good plan. But if you crash and survive and the television crews want to interview you, won’t you feel naked without lip gloss?

          • I’m not planning on surviving. When that jet fuel meets the vodka coursing through my veins, there should be a slightly larger ball of flame.

              • My only wish is that I crash on the way HOME from vacation – if I go down on the way there, I’m planning on being a poltergeist wherever that plane falls. Spooking the hell out of the residents as I float from room to room, stinking of sunblock and looking for the concierge to get reservations at that Brazilian restaurant…endlessly searching…dragging my luggage with the broken wheels like Marley with his chains…

  3. That was funny!

    I am a million miler on one airline and close to it on two others. Have been flying for many years now. I have to tell you, many of those prayers are the same ones we all say every single last time.

    Smelly people, children, farts on the plane (I wrote an entire post on this one I think). All of it is just joyful isn’t? Then you have to turn around and do it all over again. Delightful!


    • I thought it was just me…everyone around me seems so calm, cool and collected. My husband always swears he was not the one to pass gas during a flight – this time I believed him. It was too repugnant, even for him.

  4. This post had me laughing so hard! ‘August roadkill and cigarettes’. Oh, god I felt your pain just reading about your trip.

    Flying never bothered me when I was in college. I’d fly from Maine to Seattle a few times a year, take the red-eye, stretch out to sleep, watch a movie….I was either buzzed on beer or zoned on Dramamine. But now? I just grip the seatbelt and pray the whole way. I will do anything not to fly. I hate the flight attendants, the sound of the plane, the fact that I’m trapped in a tiny tin can with wings thousands of feet off the ground. If we plan a trip, I’m like, “how far is it to drive?” I would drive from Maine to Italy if I could.

    • She was rank. And who pops pimples in the airport restroom?

      I hate everything about the plane, the employees, the process – but mostly the feeling of being herded, strapped in, and totally lacking control of anything for the duration of the flight.

  5. The only way I could fly was to be drugged to the eyeballs-until I got my divorce. And then as if by magic I just got over it. Now I watch the clouds, the ground as it rushes up on landing…..I think I have a death wish. LOL

  6. I was guffawing, this was so funny! When we lived in San Antonio, we had to fly to visit anyone. Now we only have to fly to visit our daughter in Michigan. We will drive the twelve hours to Boston to see our sons rather than suffer through the pains of flying. I felt your pain.

  7. If I do the please don’t let her sit next to me prayer, she does, every time

  8. I don’t mind flying, but just for safety’s sake, I say the same prayers. I just add one tiny additional needy prayer…”Please don’t let little Max kick the back of my seat the whoe way.

  9. Hahahahaha….You are hilarious!!!
    I so relate. I hate flying, too. No, no – that’s not accurate. I don’t mind flying. I hate the fear that I will crash and burn while flying.

  10. Oh, I am laughing but I feel your pain, Katy! Glad you made it through the ordeal in one piece. “The running out of runway” bit – I thought that was just me!

    “Maybe I have been drinking black coffee all wrong for many years” really got me howling!

    • She really couldn’t understand why someone who ordered black coffee would want a full cup of coffee. I tried to explain, as pleasantly as I could in my uncaffeinated state (which is to say I was bitchy as all get out) that black coffee would require very little cream or sugar and that empty cup space could be utilized for the $64/gallon substance they were selling. She stared at me as if I had blasphemed her particular deity.

  11. Hilarious! But so glad your flight was uneventful.
    What gives with the ridiculous price for a cup of coffee in airports, by the way?! Caffeinated travelers are happy travelers – they should be doling that stuff out by the pint for free!

  12. So… good flight, then? 🙂 Glad your prayers were all answered! Like you, I have never understood why it’s a privilege/special treatment to sit on a plane longer than anyone else before it gets moving.

  13. Ah, apparently every person on a plane is praying, and is unhappy to be there? This is what I have determined after reading the post and comments so far. It was exciting back in the day. I am very tall and a bit wide as well. Imagine sitting with your knees alongside your ears in the newly-configured, more efficient seating plans. Then imagine your dismay as the person in the row in front of you sits down and immediately hits the recline button and throws their head into your lap. No. Fun. At. All.

  14. I can so relate to your post. Not much is higher on my “hate” list than flying. I usually play hand-after-hand of solitaire the entire flight. If I continue playing, I am somehow comforted that is what’s holding the honkin’ thing up. I get clammy hands reading this.

  15. I developed a flying phobia. Thanks mom’s side of the family. See my About page for more:

    Before that, I loved to fly. Not anymore. Plus the whole herding cattle, sitting on the tarmac for hours, and rudeness by pretty much everyone involved, has made me even more squeamish.

    I feel your pain, sister.

  16. Deborah the Closet Monster

    I’ve been flying JetBlue recently, which is blessedly free from first class! I’ve ended up in those front seats, but only because they’re (a) just $35 more per seat and (b) I book so late they’re the only seats available. I can recall so many situations where I was clearly scrutinized and deemed riff-raff upon boarding. Haven’t those scrutinizers in first class got anything better to do, even on an airplane? Like, say, read this post and act accordingly? 😉

  17. This is brilliant, k8edid. These prayers should be printed on the back of every inflight information card. Seriously. (At least submit your list to one of the inflight magazines.)

  18. Omgggggggggggggg, this is brilliant.
    I can actually feel my stomach tightening w/ each word.
    Love Love Love!!! Xxx

    :I say::::Ohhhhhh, God, please let me sit by Brad Pitt!!:::::

  19. Funny – I have the same feeling about flying and, I think, the same prayers. I can’t get my head around this big piece of metal flying in the air. I take lots of sleep meds and feel like crap the first two days of a trip becasue of them. I haven’t flown in 3 years and don’t miss it or want to fly anytime soon. I look latin so guess who is constantly in the glass dome. Once, I forgot that I had hairpins in my hair and it was as if I was going to explode. Everyone was real, real far away asking questions. Goldie Horn-ish that I am when nervous, I kept saying “what” over and over – they thought I couldn’t speak English. It was a midnight flight so they had lots of time and I was very drugged and tired. My hubby kept telling me to speak to them. It was hilarious afterwards but frustrating the entire time. I get what-cha talking about – believe me.
    Great story … love it

  20. I hate it too! Honey I start obsessing months beforehand, and wake up in the middle of the nights with panic attacks. Then when I fly often, I don’t even think about it.

  21. I threw up a little in my mouth at your description of the woman picking pimples. Ew. Yuck. Gross. Thanks for that little mental picture I will now have to carry around all day.

    • I tell you, it was truly repugnant. Truly. And I am not exaggerating about her stench. Do people not smell themselves after a certain point???

  22. Pingback: That Girl Ain’t Right in Her Brain… | k8edid

  23. mo

    Just found your blog…..but I can’t remember how! Anyway, I love it and I will be back!

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