Blue Lawn Chair

Apparently, I care about lawn chairs.
I’ve always known that I typically give inanimate objects personalities and feelings. The “As-is” section at IKEA (what is with that name? There doesn’t need to be a hyphen between “as” and “is.” Also, if they are going to do that, why is “is” not capitalized?? Or is that their attempt at trying to be charming and show they are based in a place where English is not the first language?) depresses me like you couldn’t believe. Sad, friendless, broken items longing to be chosen by those passing through, often times dealing with the shoppers’ mockeries.
 
Okay, call me crazy. Whatever. I’ll accept it.
 
When last in Minnesota, I stayed with relatives who live in a house with a lovely backyard leading to a lake with a dock. One day during my trip, someone placed two blue plastic lawn chairs on the aforementioned dock. That evening (or maybe it was the next? It really doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of this story) the weather took a turn for the worse; heavy winds, a deluge of rain, and a tornado of death, Wizard of Oz style (maybe I am being a bit dramatic…except for the wind). So, this torrential wind blew one of the two blue plastic lawn chairs into the lake.
 
There it sat, all day. I couldn’t help but think of the poor, abandoned lawn chair ending up like the items in IKEA’s “As-is” section (GAH! Just capitalize “is” and remove the hyphen!). All alone, insults from even the broken and discarded IKEA items pummeling it from all angles in Swedish, mocking the blue lawn chair for being a lame American item wanted by no one.
 
By the second day, the lake even decided it didn’t want Blue Lawn Chair in its waters and had pushed it to the most muck and algae-ridden part of the lake. Enough was enough. I stood up on the dock in my swimsuit and declared (to no one, but out loud) “I’m going in!” And in I went. I cannot adequately describe the revolting, stomach-churning feeling of swimming through and attempting to stand in the thick, mucus-like algae and who knows what else in which Blue Lawn Chair had ended up. All I can say is I felt submerged in some radioactive waste, surely full of disgusting parasites and leeches, conforming around my body, giving me some horrific super power like being able to pop my eyes out and juggle them. Absolutely purposeless except maybe as a weird party trick.
 
I grabbed Blue with one arm, determined to evade my demise as the eyeball juggler, but equally determined to get Blue (new nickname) back on the dock. The rigid plastic edges of the chair scraped my arms and legs, and I struggled to get Blue onto my back, carrying him (or her??) to safety like a drowning child. Eventually, I made my way back, thrust Blue onto the dock, and climbed up myself. I noticed cuts on my legs that later would be surrounded by bruises. But it was worth it to get Blue reacquainted with Other Blue Lawn Chair. I sighed with relief, proud of my efforts.
 
Then, the wind blew an innertube left on the dock into the lake. I declared, with less gusto and again to no one, “I’m going in.”

Fear of Flying

Despite how much I do it, I am still beyond terrified of plane travel. The slightest bump and I instantly panic and brace myself for the end as my life flashes before my eyes like an emotional graduation slideshow. My aerospace engineers have tried to explain turbulence to me in "simple" terms (or, at least what they consider to be simple terms...). They have equated it to driving over a pothole. I've looked up online how planes fly. The unnatural idea that a gigantic metal vessel can physically fly through the air still completely unnerves me. I always try to remember the words of a former seat neighbor of mine when he tried to calm me down during a turbulent flight: "do you think the pilot WANTS the plane to crash?? No!" Such words of wisdom. It's not like turbulence is a harmless thing, either. In the news about a month ago there was a story about a United flight that experienced such intense turbulence that a woman was thrown from her seat and cracked the ceiling with her head. What??

This may as well be written in Chinese

Let's be honest, dying in a plane crash would have to be the worst way to go. The pre-death anxiety and the long, drawn out process of falling from such an altitude could probably induce a heart attack (at least things would end that way before hitting the ground). Dying next to strangers would make the whole thing exponentially worse- at least if you were traveling with friends and family you would be dying in good company and could commiserate about all the things you wish you'd done in your life that was cut way too short, or make any confessions that were plaguing your conscience. Although you would probably become fast friends with a stranger beside you if you both knew it was the end.

It doesn't help that a Malaysia Airlines plane went missing a few days ago, carrying 239 passengers and crew all assumed to be dead unless other evidence presents itself, making it the deadliest crash in 13 years. What positive news to read right before embarking on a 16 hour flight to India! I mean, this plane DISAPPEARED. No trace! That's not only terrifying, but creepy as well. The only thing that would make a plane crash worse would be if it were caused by some sort of foul play like terrorists or alien abductions. I don't want my life to end in some sort of Amelia Earhart, Bermuda triangle scenario leaving everyone wondering about my death and causing investigative reporters to make a 60 Minutes special about the lost United Airlines flight to New Delhi in 2014.

So, T-minus four days until I leave, and this is my larges apprehension once I leave. Only once I have made it from the gate in the USA to the gate in New Dehli will I heave a sigh of relief.