The Reluctant Housewife or Dorothy Parker Ate My Puppy

"When I got married, I said to my therapist, 'I want to do something creative.' He said, 'Why don't you have a baby?' I hope he's dead now." Joy Behar

Sunday, July 31, 2005

Fear of Flying is Fear of Falling


Airports give me the rampaging heebie-jeebies. I hate being coralled into ever smaller spaces, as though I were a cow. Once, the fear overcame me and I locked myself in the men's loo at an airport in Tunisia. I hid there for what seemed like an aeon before I mustered the courage to run out onto the tarmac toward the plane. I shook like a washing machine on the spin cycle for the entire flight.


In my younger, more naive days, I toyed with the idea of being an air hostess. I was eight. My mother flicked me on the back of the head and said, "Darling, you'll spend all day carrying little bags of sick." My pre-pubescent dreams of a career where I could use one of those gorgeous wheelie suitcases every day vanished.