Flight Fright?

I don't have it. I don't understand people who do. I love planes. They're great! What's not to like? You get wherever you're going really quickly, you get fed, and if you're lucky, you get a small taste of the wacky rollercoaster tummy hop. (Should I trademark this? I am pretty sure this was an original description of a well-known phenomenon... Rollercoaster Tummy Hop™, how does that look?) All-inclusive, you know? Food, transportation and an amusement park ride, all rolled up into one. Reminds me of Kinder Surprises of my younger days...

Many people tell me they love to travel. Then they notice me staring at them with my your-insanity-beats-mine look, and almost inevitably they then ask, "Why, don't you love to travel?" Ô, le plus lamentable des êtres... If I did, would I be looking at you like that? I really don't get it. To be sure, I love being places, however, I'd rather skip actually going there. A teleporter is such a great idea. If I have to suffer an instance of me (yeah, you can tell I'm a programmer) being ripped to molecular shreds to avoid sitting for hours on end in an uncomfortable bus-conditioned seat (bus-conditioning is surely the antonym of air-conditioning), balancing boredom with nausea on a book's thin edge, so be it. I accept my fate gladly.

In my view, planes are the next best thing. They're awesome. And safe, too, despite what people think. You only hear about the planes that go down, never about the ones that get you home early. (A cynical person would draw some sort of cheap comparison to women. Thank Goddess I'm not like that.) In the same vein, even if something does happen, in the most unlikely event of bumping into something that should not have been there (like a jetbound pigeon, an errant fogheaded mountaintop or an explosive-deviced fundamentalist): not my fault. I didn't crash it, it's the guy in the front seat (or the late pigeon, or the dumb cliff, you get the drift). I can die cheerfully absolved of any guilt over my demise. What's not to love about planes?

What gives me the jitters now is the uncertainty about my destination. My own black ignorance. What is Damascus? I mean, when I was going to Budapest for a week on a business trip, I was fretting whether I would find my way around, but it was still okay, because it was an European city. Same as Zagreb, really, just rather more stocked in the Chinese restaurant department.

Damascus is a completely different culture. I can't even picture what the city is like. Will there be skyscrapers with lots of shiny glass? Will there be a mud house district? I have no clue. All I know is, it is supposed to be the "oldest continuously inhabited city in the world". Well, frankly, that does not tell me much. Neither of my expectations takes a hit from such description. I'm so in the dark. Would it hurt them to say something along the lines of "Damascus is a modern, bustling city, with a plethora of Internet cafés, and no mud houses at all"?

And, while I have absolutely nothing against the Arabs, I can't help but wonder if they will have anything against me. I speak English rather well. Arabic, not so much. Actually, I speak great, the several words I have at my disposal, then I'm done. I heard they don't like Americans. Great, I said, I speak with a somewhat Britishy accent. They hate Brits even worse, someone replied. So, I don't know. The reliability of my sources is at best questionable; however, I'll have to brush up my Balkan dialect if that's true...

Will I like the food? Will I be cold? Will I pack everything I need? Will the customs go without any hitches, or glitches? Will there be hand amputations undertaken on my account? Will I contract some bug that I will spread through my office and thus incur the murderous wrath a colleague has promised me if I bring him any African diarrheas? No idea, no idea, no idea... We'll see soon enough.

To take my mind (and consequently yours, as well) off my impending journey, let me share something truly moving (but do not blame me if you misunderstand my meaning here): the works of Rev Jesse Custer will leave no-one untouched. Mark my words.